The End
by SuzSeb
Summary: The third story in my series that began with "The Station", and continued with "The Reunion". I believe it would be great benefit for you to read those stories first. This is the conclusion of the series and will reveal the answers to the questions asked in the first two stories. Who knew what kind of trouble Sam Braddock can get into just going into a gas station for candy.
1. Chapter 1

FF_992224_797370182 6/1/2014

A/N: This series started as a thought: "What would happen if Sam Braddock happened to be in a gas station when it was being robbed?" And so, "The Station" was born. That led to "The Reunion", and finally to this story: "The End". This story will tie up all the loose ends of the previous two (at least attempt - please let me know if I leave something hanging). So my attempt at a one- to two-shot about a gas station robbery ends up being three stories with multiple chapters (this one is at least 32,700 words long at this point and not quite finished). I guess I just can't write anything too small.

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

* * *

Sam Braddock, Toronto Police Strategic Response Unit Sniper, smiled as he and his fiancée and teammate Jules Callaghan got ready to head out to their former teammate's house. The Wordsworths were having a barbeque, and Sam was looking forward to relaxing and forgetting about his problems for just a little while. He was also looking forward to seeing his SRU teammates interact with several of his JTF2 buddies outside of 'work'. Bryan Jamison, his wife Trish, Pete Mills, Justin Carlson and his family, Sean Morrissey, and Frank Mueller had all been invited to the get-together when Wordy found out they were helping the SRU protect Sam. Bryan opened the door for the SRU couple, since he and Justin were taking their turn watching over Sam at the moment. Trish Jamison, along with Sarah Carlson and the Carlson kids, was going to meet them at the Wordsworths'.

Sarah Carlson was a little nervous as she approached the Wordsworths' home. It was her first time meeting Sam's friends officially, and she wasn't sure how the kids would react. Also, Justin's military friends were the only people she really knew who would be there, besides Sam, and none of them were with her. She was a little unsure that she was even in the right place. Then she saw Sam's friend; she thought Sam had called him Spike.

Michelangelo "Spike" Scarlatti, SRU Tech Expert, paused on his way into the Wordsworths' back yard as he saw the woman approaching with three kids. "You're Sarah, right?" he beamed. "And these are the munchkins that Sam has fascinated?"

"Right, and right," Sarah replied with a relieved smile. She was in the right place after all.

"Come with me," Spike gestured towards the back of the house. "Everyone's out back." He smiled again. "I'm Spike, by the way."

"Thanks," Sarah responded. She gently ushered the three children in front of her as they made their way into the back yard. She was quickly welcomed by both Sophie Lane and Shelley Wordsworth. Sophie was holding her and Ed's young daughter Izzy, and the three women were soon involved in a conversation about the care of young girls. Shelley was dispensing advice to both of the others when they were interrupted by Sarah's kids.

"Mommy, when is Uncle Sammy going to get here?" Matt asked, whining a little.

Sarah rolled her eyes, "when he gets here, Matt." She looked around the back yard which was filled with things young children would enjoy. "Why don't you go play on the swings while you wait?"

"But, he is ok, right?" Madison asked, softly.

"Maddie, you saw Uncle Sam at the hospital," Sarah reminded the young girl. "He's going to be just fine."

"But what if he tooked a turn for the worst?" Matt wanted to know.

"Matt, your father is with him," Sarah reassured the ten year old. "If something had happened, I'm sure your dad or Lieutenant Jamison would have let us know." She looked sternly at the children. "Now, go play."

The two older children reluctantly headed towards the swings, but Adele simply crawled into her mother's lap and curled up. Sarah rolled her eyes again, grimacing towards the other women who were silently laughing.

"I swear, sometimes Uncle Sammy is more trouble than he's worth," Sarah muttered under her breath.

That caused both Sophie and Shelley to laugh out loud. "I think Jules would agree with that sentiment at times," Sophie smiled when she could speak around her laughter. Sarah laughed along with the others.

It was ten minutes later that Sam, Jules, Bryan and Justin arrived. Since Matt and Madison were watching like hawks, they immediately saw him, dropped what they were doing and started shouting, "Uncle Sammy," while running headlong towards the SRU sniper.

Sam frowned. They were going to get hurt if they didn't slow down. He quickly clapped loudly twice and held his closed fist up in the military signal to stop. The adults in the back yard were shocked when the two children froze. The frown still on his face, Sam moved swiftly to where the children stood frozen, apprehension on their faces. Sam spoke quietly enough that no one heard exactly what he was saying.

But everyone heard the chorus of "Sorry, Uncle Sammy," from the two kids. Sam spoke again and the kids nodded before turning around and walking back to where they'd started. They stopped and politely said, "Sorry Mrs. Wordsworth," and "Sorry, Mr. Wordsworth," as they reached Shelly and Wordy respectively. They continued back to where they'd been playing with the Wordsworth girls and quickly apologized to them as well, picking up everything they'd knocked over in their mad dash towards Sam.

Greg Parker, the SRU Team One Sergeant, came up and clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Do you think you could find some time for Dean and Clark?" he asked, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Eighteen year-old Dean Parker rolled his eyes where he was talking with the same aged Clark Lane and groaned, "Da-ad!"

Sam laughed. "Nope," he admitted, grinning, "I think it's way too late for them." He looked down at the tug on his pants leg.

"Hi, Uncle Sammy," Adele smiled.

"Hi, Sweetie," Sam smiled back.

"Up?" she asked, hopefully.

"No," it was Justin who answered her. "Uncle Sammy's still got a bad shoulder, Adele. He doesn't need to be carrying you around with his only good arm."

Adele's smile dimmed, but she said quietly, "Oh tay." She looked back up at Sam. "Pway now?"

"Later," Sam promised. "Why don't you go help your brother and sister build a castle in the sandbox?"

Adele cocked her head, considering. "Oh tay," she replied. "But pway later, right?"

"Right," Sam agreed. He watched as Adele skipped away, joining her brother and sister with the Wordsworth girls.

He crossed the back yard with Justin and Bryan, heading towards where Ed Lane, SRU Team One Team Leader / Sniper, and Raf Rousseau, SRU Team One, were discussing their favorite topics – guns and music. Spike and Winnie Camden, SRU Dispatcher, were near Wordy at the barbeque, 'discussing' how to best cook the burgers. Jules peeled away from the group, heading towards the three women clustered around the picnic tables near the back door.

It wasn't more than ten minutes later, when Trish Jamison arrived with Pete Mills, Sean Morrissey, and Frank Mueller. Sam smiled brightly at her as she moved across the yard to get a quick hug and kiss from her husband.

She returned Sam's smile and said, "Sam, it's good to see you again. We missed you."

Sam's smile dimmed a little, but he replied, honestly, "I missed you, too."

"Hey, guys," she said, raising her voice before the other military men could move away, "We've kind of got an announcement." She blushed a little when everyone in the back yard looked at her. Still a smile bloomed on her face as she admitted, "We're going to have a baby!"

No one was looking at Sam as he lost his smile for a moment, a pang hitting him as he pictured Matt's reaction to becoming an uncle. But he pushed that image away and was smiling again before anyone noticed. He quickly offered Trish a one-armed hug and a heartfelt "Congratulations," when it was his turn.

"So, are you up for some more babysitting?" Trish asked teasingly, a grin breaking out on her face.

Sam winced, and put a mock-forced smile on his face. "Yeah, sure," he said, unconvincingly. "No problem." Everyone around him laughed.

After another kiss from her husband, Trish headed over to the knot of women waiting to congratulate her as well. The other women gathered around, passing out hugs and congratulations. Their conversation drifted to all the many details of pregnancy and babies.

The men also split up. Frank headed towards Spike, his tech counterpart. They'd been working together for the past week, although they hadn't found any new information. They quickly started discussing computers and tech developments, leaving the cooking to Wordy, Greg, and Winnie.

Sam stayed with Ed, Bryan and Sean for a time, discussing sniping and sniper rifles. You couldn't tell it by looking at the slightly hyper-active red-head, but he was an excellent sniper, who could hold his position unmoving for as long as necessary. He was only hyper when he wasn't on the job. Bryan added the perspective of a sniper's spotter to the conversation. He'd even performed that duty for Sam several times in Afghanistan.

After about ten minutes, Sam moved on to the group that included Raf, Justin and Pete. They were discussing hockey, and Sam willingly joined in. Still he was restless. He only stayed another ten minutes before wandering away again. He felt that tug of sadness that he just couldn't shake. He moodily wondered how different the party would have been if Matt had been there as well. He totally ignored the fact that even _**he**_ probably wouldn't be there if Matt was still alive.

He wandered near where the women were still discussing babies, pausing just long enough to smirk at Jules. She glared at him before he meandered on again. He finally settled onto the ground next to the sandbox, smiling at the castle the kids were building. He sat there for fifteen minutes, giving pointers, and helping put the finishing touches on their masterpiece.

The adults oohed and aahed over the castle. Jules' sharp eyes caught the hint of pain and exhaustion on Sam's face. Both she and the Carlsons were prepared to discourage the little girl as Adele approached Sam. They were surprised to hear her ask him to tell her a story instead of anything more rigorous. Sam quietly agreed, sweeping up the Wordsworth girls, as well as Adele's brother and sister on their way into the house.

It was only fifteen minutes later that the two older Carlsons and all three Wordsworth children came quietly back into the back yard. Jules was not the only one watching for them, because Justin moved closer to the women and asked, "Matt, where's Uncle Sam and Adele?"

Matt turned towards his father. "They'se inside resting," he said. "Uncle Sammy was tired and sad, so 'Dele asked him to rest with her and he said ok."

"What do you mean, Matt, when you say that Uncle Sammy was tired and sad?" Sarah asked, frowning.

"Uncle Sammy was missing Uncle Matt," it was Madison who explained.

The sudden hush drew the attention of the other adults scattered around the back yard. "Uncle Matt, who?" Jules asked, her face reflecting the seriousness she felt.

"Uncle Matt who was Uncle Sammy's bestest friend," Matt stated. "He was a hero! He saved Uncle Sammy lots of times! But Uncle Sammy tolded us he died in the war. So he gets real sad sometimes."

Jules felt like her heart was splintering as she heard Matt's innocent words. Seeing the sadness and pain on Jules' face, Madison spoke up again. "Don't worry Auntie Jules. 'Dele can get Uncle Sammy to smile anytime! When he gets really sad, 'Dele asks him for stories about Uncle Matt. Uncle Sammy usually tells us funny ones, sos we all end up laughing."

Bryan had come up when he heard what they were discussing. His arms went around Trish's waist, pulling her in front of him and holding her close. He fought to hide his emotions as the two innocent children explained how affected Sam still was by Matt's death and how they were able to comfort him.

"Yeah," Matt added. "Ands today Uncle Sammy was tired, probly cause his shoulder was still hurting. So, 'Dele asked him to rest with her, cause she knew then he'd feel better." Matt smiled brightly at the adults, proud of his little sister who could comfort their honorary uncle.

It was a couple of minutes later that Wordy unobtrusively shot a look at Shelley. She nodded in return and excused herself to go check on something in the kitchen. Peeking around the edge of the doorway, she smiled as she saw Sam and Adele lying together on the sofa in the family room. The young girl was obviously asleep, snuggled up to her honorary uncle. Shelley must have made some kind of noise, though, because Sam cracked his eyes open and sent her a quick wink. Shelley smiled in response and retreated back to the kitchen, quickly checking on the baked beans in the oven before returning to the back yard. She smiled reassuringly at Jules, rejoining the conversation as if she hadn't left.

* * *

A/N 2: I am not the kind of person to withhold portions of the story hostage for any number of reviews. I do, however, appreciate any and all critical feedback, as well as some indication of whether you're enjoying this or not. Thanks in advance if you choose to review.


	2. Chapter 2

FF_992224_380582760 6/2/2014

A/N: So this is a mini-chapter that should have been included in Chapter 01. Enjoy.

A/N: This series started as a thought: "What would happen if Sam Braddock happened to be in a gas station when it was being robbed?" And so, "The Station" was born. That led to "The Reunion", and finally to this story: "The End". This story will tie up all the loose ends of the previous two (at least attempt - please let me know if I leave something hanging). So my attempt at a one- to two-shot about a gas station robbery ends up being three stories with multiple chapters (this one is at least 32,700 words long at this point and not quite finished). I guess I just can't write anything too small.

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

* * *

_It was a couple of minutes later that Wordy unobtrusively shot a look at Shelley. She nodded in return and excused herself to go check on something in the kitchen. Peeking around the edge of the doorway, she smiled as she saw Sam and Adele lying together on the sofa in the family room. The young girl was obviously asleep, snuggled up to her honorary uncle. Shelley must have made some kind of noise, though, because Sam cracked his eyes open and sent her a quick wink. Shelley smiled in response and retreated back to the kitchen, quickly checking on the baked beans in the oven before returning to the back yard. She smiled reassuringly at Jules, rejoining the conversation as if she hadn't left._

It wasn't more than ten minutes later that Sam emerged from the house, carrying Adele in his left arm. His head was buried in her hair, and his whole body was shaking slightly. Keeping his head averted, Sam gently set the young girl on her feet.

Looking up at Sam, a grave expression on her face, Adele announced, expectantly, "There's Auntie Jules."

Concern flashed around the adults' faces when Sam didn't reply, though his shoulders started shaking more visibly. He gently pushed the young girl towards the swings where her siblings were playing.

After waiting a few long moments, while Sam resolutely kept his face turned from the group, Jules finally asked, "Sam?"

Sam held up a hand, clearly trying to get himself under control before he faced his friends.

After another few moments passed and Sam still hadn't turned to face the group, Jules reached out and touched his shoulder, concern evident in her actions. "Sam, are you ok?"

Hearing the concern in her voice, Sam finally turned. The others were shocked to see he was shaking with laughter.

For a third time, Jules questioned, "Sam?" She was gratified to see, however, that the sparkle was back in his bright blue eyes. She could see that the sadness that was always present had been pushed way back.

"So why did my daughter announce that Auntie Jules is right here?" Justin asked, curiously.

Sam laughed harder for a moment. "You don't want to know," he gasped. He reached out to steady himself by clasping Jules' arm. He could feel the stares and made another effort to control himself. "Sorry," he smirked.

"Ok," Justin said, "I think I'm going to have to insist," he stared at Sam.

That just caused Sam to start laughing again.

"Now, I'm getting curious," Sarah focused a stern look on Sam.

"Trust me," Sam gasped again, "you really don't want to know."

"I really do," both Sarah and Justin insisted at the same time.

Sam smirked again. "Ok, but you asked for it." He laughed silently again for a moment before he could continue. "Adele told me to ask Auntie Jules for some private time – because anytime **her** parents had private time in their bedroom, they always came out smiling."

Both Justin and Sarah turned bright red. Justin started to speak, but Sam held his hand up, still laughing. "Hey, both of you insisted!"

Justin started to speak again, but Sarah squeezed his arm. He looked down at his wife and subsided. "Just wait, Braddock, you'll get yours," he muttered as he steered his wife towards where Wordy and Greg were serving the food. The next few hours were filled with good-natured fun and companionship.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to all of you who have taken the time to comment. I hope you continue to enjoy.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

* * *

_The next few hours were filled with good-natured fun and companionship._

Two weeks later the group was meeting again, this time without Wordy and their families. They were holding the weekly meeting on the status of the investigation into the attempts on Sam's life. The briefing room was full with Teams One and Two, the five-man JTF2 team, Inspector Stainton from Toronto Police Special Investigations, Commander Holleran, Commander of the Strategic Response Unit, and Sam's uncle, Major Robert Braddock.

Inspector Stainton was reporting on the SIU's progress, or lack thereof, when there was a disturbance outside the room. They heard Winnie cry "You can't go in there," and both Pete Wilson and Geoff Anderson from Team Two pulled their side arms, as they had bodyguard duty today.

A tall dark-haired man rushed into the doorway of the briefing room, and then just froze when his eyes met Sam's. Jules looked from the intruder to Sam and watched the color drain from Sam's face. Then Sam turned away from his seat at the table and fell to his knees over the trash container, retching violently.

Sam couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. And then the image from his memory and his nightmares was superimposed over the features of the man who was standing in the doorway and Sam couldn't hold back the bile. He was violently sick again, but he didn't dare close his eyes, because he knew he'd see that same nightmare image that was already causing him to throw up everything he'd eaten today.

Even as Jules moved to Sam's side, one hand on his back, the rest of Team One formed a human wall, screening Sam from the intruder's sight. Everyone was shocked, even the intruder, when Bryan took an awkward, hesitant step forward, staring at the intruder and gasped, "Matt?"

The intruder turned and stared at Bryan. "Bry? Bry, what are you doing here?"

"What you asked me to do if anything ever happened to you," Bryan rasped, emotion naked in his voice, "taking care of Sam."

"Which you would **know**, Corporal Jamison," General Braddock snapped, moving into the doorway, "if you'd waited, like I asked."

"You promised…" Matt began.

"… That if anything related to your situation impacted Sam's security at any time, I'd tell him the truth," General Braddock finished, calmly meeting Matt's eyes. He ignored the reactions from the others in the room at the implications that he'd known all along that Matt Jamison was alive. "And I intended to keep that promise… after I had the chance to prepare Sam and Bryan for your arrival." The General turned his gaze towards his son. "Is Sam ok?" he asked quietly. It wasn't clear who he was speaking to; though his comments were generally directed toward Team One and Jules.

Jules could feel Sam trembling underneath her hand. "Sam could use a couple minutes," she said, softly. She looked up and met the general's concerned eyes. Although his concern seemed genuine, Jules wasn't sure whether to trust it or not.

Sam had finished throwing up everything in his stomach. Now his system was being wracked with dry heaves. And he couldn't stop the tears from flooding his eyes. Feeling Jules' hand rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder, he reached out to her, trying to contain his emotional reactions.

"I don't understand?" Matt said, genuinely confused. "What's wrong with Sam?"

It was Bryan who answered. "What's wrong with Sam? Maybe the fact that the last time he saw you, you were a corpse who'd been shot in the head with a 50-caliber bullet that _**he**_ fired!" he snapped. When everyone's gazes snapped to him, Matt's especially begging for it to be false, Bryan nodded. "Yeah, Sam was so worried about your special assignment, that he wanted to get back to camp asap." He sighed heavily. "So, when we went to identify the bodies, he went on ahead. We couldn't keep up with him." Bryan sighed again, rubbing his forehead. "And then he wouldn't let me see. He just stood there, blocking my path, holding _**your**_ dog tags and apologizing. I knew you were gone from the look on his face. And his eyes were just… just dead, like he'd died, too."

Silence blanketed the room, Matt's eyes closing at the pain he could hear in his brother's voice and feel emanating from his best friend.

"What…" Matt began.

"No," the general's voice was steel. "Constable Callaghan said Sam needs a few minutes. We're going to wait." He ignored the eyes flicking to his face in contemplation; his expression remained closed and unemotional.

It was several long moments before Jules felt Sam's dry heaves subsiding. She continued to rub soothing circles on his back with her left hand as he silently vented his grief, his grip on her right hand never letting up. It was several more long moments before he calmed enough so she could reach out for the napkin and water bottle that Donna Sabine was holding ready. Passing the napkin to Sam to wipe his mouth, Jules used both hands to open the water bottle, before returning her left hand to his back. She passed the water bottle over and watched while Sam rinsed out his mouth, then took a small drink. She could feel his trembling ease as he wet his hand and wiped it over his eyes. She felt his deep sigh, though he let no sound escape. Finally, he met her gaze and silently nodded his readiness to continue.

Levering himself to his feet, Sam turned to face the table. Laying his hand on Ed's shoulder, he signaled to the Team Leader that he was ready to join the conversation. Ed silently moved aside so Sam could retake his seat at the conference table. After Jules slipped into the seat next to him, Sam reached out and took her hand in his. He wasn't usually one for public displays of affection, especially at work, but he needed her support right now. He didn't figure any of the SRU officers would have any objections.

And then, before anyone could ask how he was doing, he spared a brief glance around the room, before meeting Matt's eyes. Sam waited calmly while Matt winced away at the glimpse Sam allowed him of his of pain, self-loathing, grief, and despair that was slowly transforming into relief. Sam didn't miss Matt's pain as his friend silently asked for his forgiveness. A barely imperceptible nod completed the silent conversation. That's when Sam turned to the general, his face impassive and asked, "So, what happened?"

The general moved to the conference table and took a seat before he met Sam's eyes for a few moments. He waited while the others took their seats as well. Then he nodded to himself and replied, "In the two weeks before the… the 'incident', we lost two patrols. They were from two different units, stationed in two different areas." The general sighed quietly, pausing for a few moments to compose his thoughts before continuing. "It's what happened to them that links them together. The first patrol was composed of three blondes, two brunettes and a red-head."

Confused looks covered the faces around the table. "So what does their hair color have to do with anything?" Sean Morrissey asked solemnly.

The general sighed again. "Honestly, we didn't think anything of it, at first," he admitted. "When the first patrol was found, the three blondes had been shot execution style, while the others had been tortured." He looked away for a moment. "We just believed that it was an easy way to divide the men up, shooting the first group to encourage the others to talk." He looked down at his hands for a moment before raising his head and meeting Sam's gaze steadily. "The second patrol included four blondes and two brunettes. And again all the blondes were found shot execution style while the others were tortured." He kept his eyes steady on his son's. He knew this next part would be hard on Sam and he was trying to support him as best he could. "To be exact," he continued, "all seven of the blondes were found on their knees, blindfolded and gagged, hands restrained behind their backs, with a close-range gunshot to the left temple."

A deep silence filled the room. Sam's face tightened, guilt and pain flashing in his eyes, though he refused to let those emotions touch the expression on his face. The general kept his eyes linked with Sam's, concern and compassion steadfast in his gaze. He waited until Sam finally nodded once, acceptance filtering out the other emotions.

The general looked around the room at the others as he continued, "That's when I realized that something more was going on. I knew what'd happened to Sam at Ali's hands. So I was sure this wasn't a coincidence. But I also knew that my superiors would want another perspective. So I needed to have someone who had personal experience with Ali confirm my suspicions. Obviously involving Sam was out of the question. I was aware that Corporal Jamison had shared Sam's first experience with Ali and thought he could provide that more objective experience."

Sean Morrissey snorted at the thought that Matt could be objective about anything that threatened Sam like what the general was describing. Matt frowned at him, though the other military officers just tilted their heads in agreement.

The general ignored this byplay and continued. "It wasn't long before an opportunity came up. We lost another patrol, this time from Sam's unit. What we thought of at the time as a lucky break, gave us an indication of where they were being held. I sent Corporal Jamison with an extraction team to investigate what was happening, and rescue as many of the patrol that they could." The general took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. Sam saw the shadow of guilt ghost through his eyes, but he didn't allow that to keep him from continuing. "It was a trap," he admitted quietly. He turned his head and met Matt's eyes, silently giving the other officer leave to continue.

Matt nodded, licking his lips and clearing his throat nervously before beginning. "We had word that the patrol had been taken to this small village. As we approached, a large group of insurgents fled the opposite end of the village. The team leader left me in the village with one of his guys, Travis Kent, to search for the lost patrol, while the rest of the team followed the insurgents. We cleared the first two buildings with no problems." Matt sighed quietly. His fingers twisted together, as he paused for several moments.

He stared down at his fingers as he finally continued. "They sprang the trap in the third house. Four guys jumped Travis right in front of me. I moved forward to help him and four more jumped onto me. We fought, but it didn't take long for them to overpower us. They restrained my hands in front of me, but Travis's behind his back." He glanced up for a moment and Sam could see the haunted look on his face. "Travis was blond," he revealed. He sighed as he looked back down at his hands. They had started twisting together again.

"After we were restrained, they took us to Ali," he continued, his voice husky with emotion. "Four of the missing patrol were dead, tortured. But Ali was waiting there with the two remaining members of the team – two blondes. They cut my shirt off and strung me up by my hands. But they blindfolded and gagged Travis and shoved him to his knees next to the other blondes who were in the same position." Matt's hands had started trembling, but he continued; his voice hoarse but composed.

"I could tell that Ali recognized me. And that was confirmed when he got right up into my face and asked if anything looked familiar." Matt shook his head. "I stayed silent and Ali wasn't pleased. He hit me a couple times, and then moved to the other guys. He took out a revolver and emptied four rounds." Matt inhaled sharply, the memories assaulting him with more impact than he expected. "He smirked at me as he spun the chamber before positioning the revolver at the left temple of one of the missing patrol. Then he asked me to tell him the Ghost's name. When I stayed silent, he pulled the trigger."

Sam flinched at the same time that Matt flinched. "It took three times before the gun discharged into his head. In between each time, Ali asked me for the Ghost's name." Matt swallowed hard and looked up to meet Sam's eyes. "I couldn't – I wouldn't answer," he said fiercely. And then his head bowed in grief as he continued, "It only took two tries before he killed the next soldier. Travis… Travis survived the longest. But after the fourth try without a result, we all knew that the next shot would kill him. Travis shook his head at me. I could tell he wanted me to stay strong – stay quiet. And so I did. After… after Travis was dead, they started beating on me. Ali kept getting in my face and asking for the Ghost's name, but I refused to say anything at all. And then Ali's second-in-command came in and got him for some sort of mandatory meeting. They left me with only one guard."

Matt took a deep breath, trying to push the emotion away long enough to finish his story. "After that other time with Ali, I swore I wouldn't be in that situation without some way to pick the locks of the shackles holding me to the ceiling. So there was a wire hidden in each of my sleeves. And once Ali left, the guard wasn't really watching me. I managed to maneuver one wire out, and picked the locks. It took a few minutes but I got them both open. As soon as I had the guard down, it wasn't hard to slip out of the house they had me in." Matt turned his head and looked at the general again. He figured he'd want to explain the next part.

* * *

A/N: Well, a surprise and some backstory... TBC on Sunday with more backstory...


	4. Chapter 4

FF_992224_ 6/8/2014

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

A/N: Some of you might recognize the reference to the TV show in this chapter. It's another of my favorites.

* * *

_Matt turned his head and looked at the general again. He figured he'd want to explain the next part._

The general quietly took up the narration. "It wasn't long after Corporal Jamison and his companion missed a check-in, that we realized it had to have been a trap. The extraction team stopped following the group of insurgents and returned to the area of the village. After contacting base, we put together a plan to rescue the Corporal and anyone left alive." The general took a deep breath. "I couldn't afford to put either Sam or Lieutenant Jamison in the extraction team, in case it turned into a recovery effort. So, I placed Sam as the sniper with the lieutenant as his spotter." He looked down at his hands for a moment. "I never intended what actually happened."

Looking up and meeting Sam's eyes steadily, he allowed his deep regret to show as he continued. "What actually happened was that Corporal Jamison met the extraction team as they approached the village. He briefed the team leader on his experience, and the team leader passed the information back to base. We had several problems. We needed to get Sam out of the country without Ali or any of his associates realizing that he was the Ghost. And we needed to protect Corporal Jamison, as well, because Ali already knew that he had that information. And finally, we needed to accomplish this in a relatively short amount of time. It doesn't matter who came up with the solution that was implemented. It was determined that if Corporal Jamison 'died' under friendly fire, and Sam was the sniper involved, it would solve all of our problems – especially since Sam was already in place. The team leader, Corporal Jamison, and the command group were the only ones that were privy to this information."

The general sighed and ran a hand down his face. He looked weary. "And so the plan was implemented. It was not anticipated that Sam would find Corporal Jamison's 'body', but when he did, that didn't change anything. The plan had still resolved all the issues. I, however, had another issue. I needed to make sure that Sam stayed safe and did not attempt to re-join the military."

Sam had been taking a drink when his father said that last part. He choked and started coughing. Jules began thumping him on the back, to ease his cough. She looked over at the general, shock and a hint of outrage on her face. "Haven't you been the one insisting that Sam go back into the military ever since he got out?" she asked.

The general let out a long sigh and his lips twisted. "I knew that if I told Sam he had to stay away from the military, he'd have questions. He'd start picking at what'd happened, and why. Eventually he'd figure out the truth. I also knew that if I pushed the military at him at every opportunity, he'd push back, if only to spite me. So that's what I did."

Sam had finally managed to stop coughing and looked up in time to see the guilt in his father's eyes as he continued. "And I made sure I pushed it even harder when I knew he was at risk to leave the SRU – after what happened to Constable Young, and the incident at the Godwin Coliseum." Sam saw the guilt in his father's eyes, but he also saw the determination. He knew it was a determination to protect him, regardless of whether Sam realized it at the time. An uncomfortable silence fell. Sam knew that his teammates were conflicted – on the one hand, he'd hurt Sam with his actions, but on the other, they were all done to protect Sam in the end.

Everyone was startled when Sam said, "You are such a jerk," with just a hint of a smile on his face. There was no heat in his words.

His father searched his face for a long moment before replying in the same vein, "Yeah, yeah… bitch, bitch, bitch."

Sam froze for an instant, startled. "Are you still watching…?"

"Yes," the general replied, a small but real smile on his face. "After all, a man I _**respect**_ said it was good, and I trust his judgment."

Sam held his father's gaze for several more long moments before finally nodding in acceptance. He took a deep breath and scrubbed his face with his hands. Looking back at his father, he asked again, "So, what happened? Why are you telling me all this now?"

The general nodded once, and all trace of amusement left his face. "Ali is in the country," he announced abruptly. Everyone's eyes snapped to him. "He was seen in the neighborhood of the Jamisons' parents' home, but disappeared before the authorities could get there." Before either Matt or Bryan could ask, he continued. "They've been brought onto base covertly and are being covered by a 24-hour protection detail." He examined Sam's face intently. "Would you consider…?" he began.

"No," Sam interrupted. "No, I won't go into protective custody on base. First of all, I don't belong there anymore. Also, if Ali can't get to me, he'll go back to Afghanistan, and the situation will continue the way it is now. Ali will continue to send mercenaries after me, so my life and the lives of everyone around me will stay endangered. No, we need to come up with a plan that will trap Ali here and now." Sam looked around the room.

"Do we know who's funding this?" Inspector Stainton asked.

"Not really," it was Alex Haile from Team Two who spoke up. "But we know for sure who isn't funding this." He exchanged glances with Spike and Frank Mueller. "We've double- and triple-checked and can't find any evidence that Ali, or the website advertising the bounty on Sam, were funded by Al Qaeda or the Taliban. We're still trying to track the funding for the website, but it's going to take a while."

"Do you have any theories?" Rob Braddock asked.

Again the three tech experts exchanged glances. This time it was Spike who spoke, "Actually, we've been discussing that." He looked at Sam. "We think Ali is doing this by himself."

Sam looked startled. "Why would he do that? And does he even have the funds to follow through on the bounty?"

Frank Mueller nodded. "He definitely has the funds to pursue you. And, as for why he'd go after you? Sam, what happened with the Ghost destroyed his credibility with both the Taliban and Al Qaeda. He became an outcast with the men he once commanded. He could have hopes that it'd redeem him with them if he brought you in."

Sam looked contemplative. "But, why now? What's changed that's caused him to come after me, now?"

The three tech experts exchanged another glance, this one less certain. The other two looked at Spike who spoke, hesitantly, "Well, we have a theory on that, too, but absolutely no proof."

All eyes focused on Spike, who looked even more hesitant with all the attention. "We actually think that the reason Ali is coming after you now, is because he found an inside source." Spike met Sam's eyes, concern evident in the tech's gaze. "Before now, he didn't know who the Ghost was. Now he does. Someone had to have given him that information."

Silence filled the conference room as the group considered the idea. It was the general who finally broke the tense stillness. "So, it would have to be a military leak," he said, looking around the group, "because no one outside the military had that information." He glanced at Norm Holleran before continuing, "Not even Commander Holleran." He sighed heavily, trying to come up with an answer in his head.

"If Ali was spotted outside my parents' house," Matt suggested, solemnly, "then it could potentially be someone who knew I was still alive."

"If Ali knew about the joint investigation," Sean Morrissey objected, "it doesn't mean he knows anything about you being alive. It could be that he targeted your parents because of Bryan."

Again silence filled the room. Sam reluctantly spoke. "Yes, but if someone told Ali that I was the Ghost, he may have figured out that Matt was still alive," he suggested. "That means Matt showing up here, just confirms another target for him." He was still shaken that Matt was alive. He didn't want his friend to become a target again so quickly.

"So what do we know?" Rob Braddock asked slowly. "Let's lay everything out and see if we can get some idea of where we stand and what Ali is trying to accomplish."

"We know that Ali knows that Sam is the Ghost," Jules said quietly.

"We know that Ali is **not** being funded by Al Qaeda or the Taliban," Frank contributed.

"We know that Ali is in Canada, and more specifically the Toronto area," Bill Braddock frowned.

"We know that Ali put a bounty on Sam, and that up until now, he was letting mercenaries try to collect it." Ed growled.

"Yeah, but Ali was never one to tolerate failure," Matt mused. "After the second group failed, he probably decided that he couldn't count on anyone else to get the job done. That's why he came over here himself."

"We don't know for sure whether Ali knows if Matt's still alive," Bryan stated.

"So, how do we set a trap to get Ali, while protecting his targets?" it was Donna who asked the million-dollar question.

"If we change my protection, Ali's going to realize that we know he's here. And he'll probably back off, which will make it that much harder to trap him," Sam said quietly. He saw objections on many of the faces at the conference table, but no one was able to refute that statement.

"Sam…" the general cautioned.

"Do you know of **any** other way to get his attention, other than to use me as bait?" Sam asked him quietly. He met his father's gaze without giving an inch. The tension in the room ratcheted up a few notches as the two Braddocks matched each other, stare for stare. The silence stretched tightly while the silent battle of wills went on, and no one dared break it.

Finally, the general growled and looked away. "I don't like it!" he stated forcefully.

"Neither do I," Sam conceded. "But I just don't see any other way to get to him."

"Then we better have a hell of a plan," Ed growled. "Because I'm not about to let that piece of crap get his hands on **any** of his targets. There're too many good people at risk."

Rob Braddock took control again. "Spike, you and the other tech guys see if you can find any indication of who the leak is. Try looking for anomalies in Ali's financial records. If we can figure out who he's paying off, we can find the leak."

He looked at Commander Holleran and Inspector Stainton. "How available will Team One be to help resolve this situation?"

Holleran sighed quietly. "We can't take both Teams One and Two away from regular shifts. We just don't have the manpower. However, if we put Team One on call only, they'll be available to help, much of the time. Scarlatti can devote 100% of his time to the investigation. But the others will need to split their time between this issue and any calls that come up. They'll be excluded from patrolling, and most warrant calls. But they'll still have to take any hot calls that come in."

"Fair enough," Greg Parker conceded.

"Lieutenant Jamison and his team will continue to take turns with Team Two protecting Sam," Bill Braddock checked with Norm Holleran that this was still appropriate as he spoke. Catching the other man's silent nod, he nodded in return. He let out a soft sigh before continuing. He knew this wouldn't be a popular decision. "Corporal Jamison will remain with me and act as an additional aide."

"Sir…" Matt protested. His pain-filled eyes met Sam's. He didn't want to leave his friend – not after they'd just been reunited.

"Corporal," snapped the general. Once Matt subsided, the general continued with his explanation. "If Ali is watching this building and saw you arrive, then he knows you're alive and nothing we do will keep him from coming after you. If, on the other hand, he doesn't have this building under surveillance, or whoever's watching does not know your face, all that was seen was two military officers joining the weekly briefing. Therefore your best protection is staying with me, on my staff, as if you were a new aide." He met Matt's eyes squarely. "Both of you are safer this way. After Ali is dealt with, you and Sam can reconnect." He turned to Sam. "If that's what you both want," he added, casting a sympathetic gaze on his son.

They continued to discuss options until the general's phone rang. Checking the display, the general frowned and said, "I need to take this." He moved out of the conference room and answered the call. General Braddock returned within ten minutes, a frown still on his face.

"Something's come up on base, I need to get back." He turned to Matt. "Corporal Jamison, you're with me."

Matt nodded reluctantly. He turned toward Sam, his eyes expressing his tumultuous emotions. Sam nodded once, sharply, in response and acceptance, his gaze expressing his willingness to connect with Matt when the situation was resolved. Turning his eyes to his father, Sam nodded again, silently promising that he would do what was necessary to stay safe.

* * *

A/N: The chapters after this go into some dark places, with discussions of torture and beatings. I've got the rating at T, and I think that's appropriate, because it's not graphic, but please let me know if you disagree, and I can change it to M.


	5. Chapter 5

FF_992224_ 6/12/2014

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

A/N: Ok, enough backstory, time to get to the action.

* * *

_Sam nodded once, sharply, in response and acceptance, his gaze expressing his willingness to connect with Matt when the situation was resolved. Turning his eyes to his father, Sam nodded again, silently promising that he would do what was necessary to stay safe._

The meeting quickly broke up, leaving the three tech experts, Sam and his two bodyguards, Pete Wilson and Geoff Anderson in the conference room. They continued to discuss options and their research into the financing of the website and the bounty.

Ten minutes later Team One was called out on a bomb call. Spike looked torn and the other two tech experts insisted that he go – they would continue the research without him. Sam nodded his agreement and Spike took off with the team.

It was fifteen minutes after the team left that Sam got the call. It was his father's aide. The others in the room saw Sam pale. "How bad?" he asked, his voice hoarse with fear. It must have been bad, because they heard him curse softly before replying, "I'm on my way. Did they take them to the base hospital?" A pause and then, "Ok, thanks."

Pete Wilson and Geoff Anderson quickly stood. "What is it?" Pete asked.

"There's been an attack on my father and Matt," Sam said quietly. His fear and pain were clear in his eyes, but he suppressed it from his expression and his voice. "I need to get to the base hospital as soon as possible."

"We need to check in with the Commander before we go anywhere," Pete insisted.

Geoff was already headed towards the Commander's office.

"We don't have much time," Sam was torn. He understood the others' need to protect him, but… "Corporal Jackson said that they were in bad shape – that there was a good chance they wouldn't make it."

Sam's objections were interrupted by the commander and Geoff jogging back to the conference room.

"What's the situation?" Holleran snapped.

"Both my father and Matt were attacked on base," Sam replied, tersely. "They're at the base hospital and it doesn't look good."

"Who called?" Holleran asked, suspicious.

"My father's aide, Corporal Robert Jackson," Sam replied. "And yes, I recognized his voice."

Holleran nodded, some of the suspicion fading from his expression. "We still can't rule out a trap," he stated.

"I know," Sam replied, "but…" his voice faded as he looked at the man who'd been like a father to him in desperation. "I can't…" He closed his eyes, and clenched his fists against the emotions that were practically strangling him.

He jerked at the hand on his shoulder, but didn't pull away.

"You have to go," Holleran acknowledged. "But you go with Pete, Geoff, Alex, and Corporal Mueller. I'll contact Donna and Troy and have them meet up with you asap. Keep me apprised of your location every ten minutes."

Relief trickled in on top of the enormous fear. "Thanks," he breathed.

"Gear up," Holleran ordered.

All five officers nodded and were on their way within ten minutes.

It was twenty minutes into the thirty minute drive to the base, right after their second check-in, that it happened. Sam caught sight of a flash of light and the car two cars ahead of them exploded. Before anyone could react, they were caught up in the chain-reaction accident, with impacts from both the front and the rear. Sam was forced against the seatbelt and then back against the seat in rapid succession. He saw stars for a moment when the back of his head impacted the hard dash leading to the rear window. Unfortunately he was the only one wearing a seat belt; the others' had forgone them in an attempt to be ready for an attack of any kind on the road.

When his head cleared, Sam looked around the car and cursed. Both Alex and Frank in the front were unconscious, blood flowing from cuts on their heads where they impacted the windshield. They'd turned the airbags off, so they couldn't be used to trap Alex and Frank in case of a minor accident. The windshield was shattered, but held together with the security glass. Pete was conscious to his left, but the car had buckled and his leg was trapped under the front seat. Geoff must have hit his head on the window next to him because he was unconscious like Alex and Frank, blood flowing down the right side of his face.

Sam looked beyond Geoff, to where the flash had come from and cursed again. He saw Ali with several men, examining the traffic for a good time to cross to the damaged vehicle. Looking back at Pete, he could see that he was coming out of his daze.

"I've got to get out of here," he quickly told the other man, helping him lean back and away from the side window. "Ali's on his way with at least five men. If they catch me here, we're all dead. If they see me getting away, hopefully they'll follow me and leave you guys alone."

"Sam," Pete gasped, pain coloring his voice.

Sam just grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. "Call for backup," he ordered. Covering Pete with his jacket, he quickly kicked out the side window and slithered out. Catching Ali's gaze, they both froze for a second before the other man found a gap in the traffic and started towards the SRU officer. Sam quickly jumped the barricade between the two sets of lanes and darted between the oncoming traffic into the woods on the other side. He wasn't sure exactly where they were, but he knew his chances were better in the woods, rather than out in the open.

Slowing as he entered the woods, Sam didn't dare an all-out sprint. He had to conserve some of his strength and the woods could be dangerous if you weren't paying close attention. He knew the others had the advantage, too. He fought to keep his mind on his surroundings, ignoring the various aches and pains that were making themselves felt from the accident. The worst was the pounding pain in his head, but his ribs and chest ached as well.

That pounding headache made it hard to concentrate and so his thoughts kept circling back to Matt and his father and whether they were still alive or not. Sam's thoughts were interrupted when he tripped on an exposed tree root and fell to his hands and knees. Taking the time to quiet his breathing, Sam listened intently for signs of his pursuers. Adrenaline shot through him when he clearly heard at least five pursuers, closer than he'd like. Quickly regaining his feet, he had to suppress a groan at the pain in his right ankle, looking for cover and moving as fast as the pain would let him. He didn't have time to do anything to treat his injury – it would be a moot point if Ali caught him now.

He couldn't move anywhere near as fast, though. So Sam began looking for more concealment and ways to hide the signs of his passage. He was able to find some rocky ground and navigated that towards the lower branches of a tree he could reach without leaving the rocks. Pulling himself into the tree with his hands and upper body strength, Sam used his left foot against the trunk for leverage, finally reaching the safety of the lower branches. He quietly moved up in the tree, staying close to the trunk, careful to keep the noise down and avoiding displacing any of the smaller branches. He paused several times during his ascent, freezing when he heard the sounds of his pursuers.

Sam watched and listened as several of his pursuers moved through the woods below the tree that he was hiding in. He silently cursed when one stopped to relieve himself right below him. He froze into stillness when a shout echoed through the trees.

"Sanders, where the hell are you?" the voice was obviously irritated.

"I got to piss," the man below Sam yelled back. "I'll catch up!" Sanders muttered under his breath, "Jesus, it's not as if the SOB's gonna jump outta this tree and shoot me or anything." He looked up into the tree. He froze when his eyes met Sam's.

Sam cursed again and quickly shot him with the Glock he'd had pointed at him since he'd stopped under the tree. He could hear the others changing direction to investigate the gunshot. Quickly slithering down the tree, Sam avoided the body and slipped into cover, moving as fast as he could in another direction.

Sam did his best to stay under cover and move quickly away from the men pursuing him. But he could tell that they had found his trail. And he wasn't moving quickly enough on his bad ankle. He knew it was only a matter of time before they caught up to him. But he was determined to stretch that time as long as possible. Every minute he delayed his capture by Ali, was another minute for his friends to make it to the scene to take Ali into custody and rescue him.

Pete Wilson stayed silent underneath Sam's jacket as the vehicle was surrounded for a moment by Ali and the men at his disposal. He heard Ali direct the others after Sam, and held his breath as he imagined Ali looking inside the car at the injured officers there. It wasn't until he heard Ali move away after a call from one of his men, that he gulped in a deep breath of air. He waited another few minutes to make sure Ali was gone before pulling the jacket from his head. He was dialing the SRU seconds later.

Pete quickly requested EMS from Winnie before asking to be put through to the commander. He echoed the commander's curses as he reported what'd happened and requested immediate backup. He cautioned against the use of the helicopter, because he was sure that the RPG that'd caused the accident wasn't a single shot weapon.

Holleran reported that Team One was on their way – their call had been a hoax. He didn't believe that was a coincidence, either. He'd also called in the rest of Team Two and the JTF2 Team for support. But it was going to take almost 20 minutes for anyone to reach them. Pete cursed silently again, but acknowledged the reality of the situation. He was somewhat encouraged to hear that Donna and Troy were only ten minutes behind them. But that still left Sam without support for far too long.

* * *

A/N: The coming chapters will be darker: there are descriptions of beatings and torture. But nothing is graphic, so I feel that the T rating is still appropriate. Please let me know if you disagree, so I can determine whether to make the change to M.


	6. Chapter 6

FF_992224_ 6/15/2014

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

* * *

_He was somewhat encouraged to hear that Donna and Troy were only ten minutes behind them. But that still left Sam without support for far too long._

Sam was surrounded. He knew it. Fortunately Ali and his men hadn't realized that they'd trapped him yet. Still, it was just a matter of time. He had to see if he could take out at least one piece of the surrounding force before they realized they had him. He moved as quickly and as silently as possible towards the enemy who had the position closest to the edge of the woods. If he could vacate the area before Ali realized he was gone, he might just have a chance to live. Sam pushed the negative thought away. He couldn't think like that. He'd promised everyone that he'd do his best to stay alive, and negative thoughts like that could defeat him before he even began to fight.

Clearing his mind, Sam focused on taking out the enemy he was approaching. He was almost there, when his right ankle gave out and he fell against a small tree, rustling the branches as he fell. It wasn't a loud noise, but it was enough to draw the attention of the man he was after. Before he could complete the shout he started, Sam lunged forward and sliced the edge of his hand into the other man's throat, silencing his shout into a choked gasp.

Sam's quick actions kept the other man from shouting to his comrades, but not from tightening his finger on the trigger of his automatic weapon. Fortunately for Sam, the weapon was pointed at the ground as several shots rang out. Unfortunately for Sam, the weapon did what the shout would have: notified everyone in the vicinity of his presence.

Sam ripped the weapon from the other's weakened grasp, taking advantage of the other man's distress. Once the weapon was in his control, he reversed its momentum and slammed the butt into the other man's temple. He fell boneless to the ground, and Sam limped past him as fast as he could. But he knew that there was no way he could run, and therefore the very real possibility that he wasn't going to get out of this.

Sam suppressed a curse when he realized that the surrounding force had another layer. And now that they knew where he was, he was unable to come upon the next enemy unaware. When Sam caught sight of his next opponent, he quickly swung the weapon into position, flicking the selector switch into the three-shot mode. He had no ammunition other than that already loaded into the automatic weapon, and he had to conserve it. But something crashed into the back of his head as he triggered the shots, causing them to go off-target and hit the enemy in his shoulder, instead of the more lethal shot Sam had intended.

The momentum of the strike to his head caused him to stumble forward, dazed, delaying his turn towards the new factor in the fight. That allowed his new opponent to grab the weapon as he turned, yanking it from his grasp. Sam swung his fists, desperately lunging at the other, trying to incapacitate him so he could escape. He cried out in pain and collapsed towards the ground when the other swung the weapon low, savagely striking his bad ankle. Sam fought even more desperately as several men converged on him; fighting for his life: punching, kicking, elbowing, anything to fight his way free. But it was useless. The sheer numbers overwhelmed him.

It was only moments before he was forced to his knees, stripped of his weapons, vest, and uniform shirt, his hands restrained behind his back with zip ties. He was held there, hands on his shoulders and arms, as Ali himself approached, smirking. Sam kept his expression blank, giving his nemesis no indication of the feelings churning inside him. He forced himself not to struggle, knowing that would just fuel Ali's enjoyment of the situation.

"Hello, my friend," Ali purred, in his accented English, "It is so nice to see you again."

Sam kept silent, again knowing that any response would just provide more opportunities for Ali to gloat over his capture. He focused on keeping his despair and fear off his face, determined to deny his captor any indication of his feelings of defeat.

He couldn't suppress the shudder, though, when Ali brought out a stained cloth and said, "I saved this just for this occasion," as he moved to Sam's side. It was the same cloth that Ali had used as a gag the other two times he'd had him captive. The men holding him down forced his jaw open for Ali to fill with the foul cloth. Another cloth was tied around his head, holding the putrid length of material in. Sam choked, fighting back the bile brought up by the noxiousness of the cloth. Ali laughed softly, sinisterly, avidly absorbing every detail of Sam's reaction.

When he couldn't milk Sam's reaction any more, he gestured several men closer who were hovering just outside Sam's vision. "I know we are probably pressed for time," Ali smirked, "but I thought you might like to meet the man who made this reunion possible."

Sam froze and shock flickered across his face as he recognized his father's aide, Corporal Robert Jackson. Several men followed him towards the terrorist leader. "It is amazing, the lengths some men will go to because of a little jealousy." He smiled at Sam. "We have just enough time to let you watch this man get his well-deserved reward." He gestured at the men behind Jackson.

Sam watched the outraged shock and anger fill Jackson's face as he was grabbed and forced to his knees, his hands restrained behind his back. Before his outraged protests could be heard, a gag was forced into his mouth and secured there tightly. Sam could do nothing but watch the as the blindfold was wrapped around the other man's head, cutting off his view of Jackson's eyes. Sam shuddered once, as Ali laid the barrel of the gun gently at Jackson's temple. He flinched at the shot, but kept his expression guarded.

Sam grunted in pain as Ali quickly moved back to him and thrust the gun viciously at his temple. Another grunt escaped when the barrel was ground savagely against his flesh. He exhaled heavily when the gun was removed. And then he had to fight to keep his face composed when a blindfold was tied tightly over his eyes. He was shocked when he was just yanked to his feet and dragged away. He'd expected Ali to end it right then and there.

Pete Wilson fought to get his leg free of the seat in front of him. He choked back a cry of pain as his desperate shaking of the seat in front of him cut into his trapped ankle. He froze when Alex Wilson, still seated in that seat, moaned with pain.

"Alex, can you hear me?" he asked, trying to scoot forward. He couldn't suppress his cry when pain shot through his leg once more. After panting through the pain, Pete tried yet again. He could still hear Alex moaning. "If you can hear me Alex, don't move. We were in an accident and we need to wait for EMS."

"S-Sam?" Alex moaned, proving his dedication; his first thoughts were for the man he was protecting.

"He's not here," Pete informed him. Alex shifted in his seat in response and Pete cried out again when that sent another shooting pain through his leg. "Please, Alex, stay still. My leg is trapped under your seat," he gasped out, fighting back the pain.

Alex cursed softly, but asked again, "Where's Sam?"

"I don't know," Pete admitted. "He was the only one mobile after the accident. He saw Ali heading for the car and took off towards the woods. Ali and at least seven men went after him."

"You call it in?" Alex asked.

"Yeah," Pete replied. "Donna and Troy should be here at any time. Team One and the rest are about ten minutes behind them."

"What about Team One's bomb call?" Alex asked.

"It was a hoax," Pete replied. "How's Frank?"

The two men fell silent for a moment, hearing far-off sirens making their way towards their location. "He's still unconscious," Alex finally replied, after checking the JTF2 Tech Expert. "His pulse is good, and he's breathing freely, though."

Pete's reply was interrupted by a groan from Geoff Anderson to his right. "Slowly, Geoff," he cautioned, reaching a hand over to rest on the other man's shoulder.

"What…?" Geoff asked, blinking his confusion.

"An RPG hit the car two ahead of ours," Pete said.

"Sam?" he asked.

"He took off," Pete reiterated. "Ali was headed this way, and Sam knew he was a sitting duck. He headed to the trees to our left."

"Did Ali head after him?" Geoff asked; concern naked on his face.

"Yeah," Pete admitted.

"So, what are we waiting for?" Geoff asked.

"EMS," Donna's voice came from outside the car. "None of you are in any shape to go after Sam."

"But…" Geoff objected.

"Stay there," Troy ordered, his voice firm. "Pete, you still trapped?"

When Pete just nodded, Geoff took a good look at his fellow SRU officer. He cursed softly.

"Alex?" Troy quietly addressed the injured officer in the driver's seat.

Alex raised his head from where he'd been leaning back with his eyes closed against the headrest, opening his eyes as he did. "I'm ok," he said, but his voice was hoarse with pain and fatigue.

"What about Mueller?" Troy asked.

"He's still unconscious, but his pulse and breathing are ok," Alex replied, softly.

Troy looked up as a medic approached. It was Steve Morgan, an old friend of Jules Callaghan. "Steve," Troy greeted him. "Look after them and keep us informed of their injuries," he instructed. After receiving Steve's answering nod, he looked over at Donna. "Ready?" he asked.

Donna nodded and the two SRU officers headed quickly across the closed lanes of traffic on the opposing side of the freeway and into the woods. It took them twenty minutes to make their way through the woods. They heard the rest of the teams arrive a little more than ten minutes after they'd entered the woods. They knew Team One was following them. The rest of their team was with the injured officers. Donna and Troy were relieved to hear that Frank Mueller had finally regained consciousness. Steve Morgan believed that he had a moderate concussion and that's why he hadn't regained consciousness any sooner. Steve also made sure they knew that the other three only had minor injuries: two mild concussions and a broken ankle. All four were headed to the hospital for treatment.

Troy froze and when Donna saw what he was looking at, she did as well. Troy swallowed heavily, and then somberly announced over the comms, "We have a body here." Both he and Donna searched the surrounding area intently as they cautiously approached. Once certain that the area was clear, both officers exchanged a despairing glance before approaching.

Donna let out an explosive exhale, her eyes tearing up a little as she looked away for just a moment after recognizing that she couldn't identify the body. "We have an unidentified male in his late twenties or early thirties, around six feet in height, two hundred ten pounds, with brown hair," she reported huskily, after turning back to examine the body. "He was shot execution-style to the left temple, on his knees, blindfolded and gagged, with his hands restrained behind his back."

They ignored the exclamations of relief that were audible over the comms while they searched the surrounding area for any sign of their missing colleague. "There's no sign of Sam," Troy reported soberly. "But, there are signs of a struggle and several more dead bodies. It looks like Sam was taken."

* * *

A/N: Taken... Taken where?


	7. Chapter 7

FF_992224_ 6/18/2014

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

A/N: Here is where it starts to get darker. Ali is NOT very nice to Sam...

* * *

"_There's no sign of Sam," Troy reported soberly. "But, there are signs of a struggle and several more dead bodies. It looks like Sam was taken."_

Winnie broke into the conversation. "Guys," she said, hesitantly, "I have General Braddock on the phone, asking for Sam."

"Winnie," Commander Holleran said quietly, "I'll take that. But keep it on the comms. Sam was here because his father's aide told him that he and Matt had been attacked and were dying."

"Yes, sir," Winnie replied, making the connections.

"Bill," Holleran began, "where are you and Corporal Jamison?"

"We're at the base hospital," Braddock said. "There was a smoke bomb set off in my office, and EMS insisted on transporting both me and Jamison to the hospital. Where's Sam?"

"Where's your aide?" Holleran asked, ignoring the question of Sam's whereabouts for the moment.

"Corporal Jackson?" Braddock was confused. "As far as I know, he's still at the office, why?" He took a deep breath, "And what does that have to do with Sam?"

"Sam got a call from your aide," Holleran said, soberly. "He said he recognized his voice. He told Sam that you and Matt were attacked and probably wouldn't make it – that Sam was needed at the base hospital as soon as possible." He sighed quietly before continuing, "They were attacked on the way. Sam is missing, after running from Ali."

Braddock cursed, quietly. He could be heard directing Matt to call the base and see if Corporal Jackson was available.

"Bill," Holleran commanded Braddock's attention again. "Do you have a picture of Jackson? We have an unidentified male body here."

"Corporal Mueller?" Braddock asked.

"He has a moderate concussion from the accident that stopped the SUV," Holleran reported.

"What about Constable Scarlatti?" Braddock asked.

"I'm here and ready," Spike responded. "But I don' have access to your databases."

"Give me a minute," Braddock returned. They could hear him direct Matt to get in touch with someone in Information Security. The general must have his phone on speaker, because the entire group could hear his conversation. They heard Matt give him another phone with the Information Security officer on it after informing the general that he hadn't been able to reach Corporal Jackson.

"I need Constable Michelangelo Scarlatti of the Toronto Police Strategic Response Unit to have immediate access to all military information systems commensurate with his security clearance," Braddock demanded. "This is General William Braddock and I'm authorizing it right now." There was a pause. "I don't have the form and I don't have time to fill it out. I want that security clearance granted immediately." His voice was deadly soft and menacing when he continued, "Well, if you can't do it, you'd better connect me with someone who can."

The SRU comms were silent as they listened to Sam's father bulldoze his way through the red tape to get Spike the clearance he needed. Finally, as they listened to the general get what he was asking for Spike muttered, "That is one scary dude."

"So that's where Sam gets it from," Isaac Wright responded.

Silence returned to the comms as Braddock picked up the phone and barked, "Constable Scarlatti, you should be getting an e-mail with the log-in information you need."

"I've got it," Spike returned. He quickly searched through the personnel records and found Corporal Jackson's photo. "Sending the corporal's picture to your PDAs now," he announced about five minutes later.

Donna's voice came through next, confirming that the body they'd found shot execution-style was Corporal Robert Jackson. General Braddock cursed violently, and silence fell over the comms again in response.

"Bill," it was Commander Holleran who interrupted the flow of invective. "Bill, we need to go public."

No one was brave enough to disturb the immediate silence that statement provoked. After several long minutes, the general finally replied. "You're right. If we're going to have any chance of finding Ali, we need to get his face out there, along with the fact that he's a terrorist. People who deal with criminals draw the line at terrorists." Braddock heaved a resigned sigh. "And we'll probably have to put Sam's face out there, too."

"Your place, or mine?" Holleran asked after another moment of silence.

"Sam is SRU," the general said quietly. "It should come from you."

"Thanks," Holleran replied just as quietly. "Can you make it in an hour?"

"I'll be there," the general ended the call.

Sam was glad to be pulled from the trunk of the car. The long drive had been somewhat twisty and bumpy; and he had no way of steadying himself against the bumps or turns. Between the blindfold covering his eyes, and the zip ties binding his hands behind his back, he was helpless to protect himself during the ride.

He knew though, that there would be no relief from the pain. If anything, more would be inflicted. He was dragged into a building of some kind and down a long hall. His journey ended when he was shoved into a chair, his hands guided over the back. He heard Ali order, "String him up." After some noises Sam couldn't identify, the zip ties holding his hands behind his back were cut, and his wrists were pulled around to the front and restrained again.

Sam was pulled from the chair and a rope threaded through the restraints on his wrists. A grunt of pain was all he let out as his wrists were pulled up over his head. He was drawn upward until his feet were barely touching the floor. He heard the chair being moved away and silently prepared himself for the pain to come. He wasn't disappointed. He was a little surprised when it was fists that were used for the beating. But there was nothing he could do to avoid the blows or protect himself. He knew there was more than one person doing the beating because one person couldn't hit him that quickly in that many different places. He was struggling to keep his mind off the pain by analyzing how many men were participating. It wasn't working. He couldn't keep track of the number of blows, and by the time they stopped, he was hanging limply from his wrists, moaning with pain.

The rope holding him up was released and Sam collapsed to the floor, crying out into the gag in pain. Again the restraints on his wrists were cut and his hands were pulled behind him once more. After being restrained, he was pushed to his knees. A gun was pushed into his left temple and ground against the skin.

Ali asked, "Do you feel lucky, my friend?" and ground the gun against his head once more.

Behind the blindfold, Sam closed his eyes. He knew his luck wasn't that good. He couldn't stop the flinch at the click that came next. Ali ground the gun against his head again. And then there was another click. Sam fought to swallow around the fetid cloth in his mouth, fear making his mouth dry. He couldn't stop a nearly inaudible moan of pain as the gun was ground against his temple once more. Three more clicks of the gun, with the barrel being forced against his head between each one, and Sam knew what was coming next. But he was wrong.

He swallowed hard again when he heard the sounds of the cylinder spinning. Ali was resetting the game. Sam wanted to scream; he wanted to fight. But there was nothing he could do. Bound and alone in a room with at least five assailants, he was helpless. A single tear slid silently down his face as Ali put the gun to his temple again.

Ali had reset the game five times before someone entered the room and announced, "The plane is ready, sir."

Sam was numb. He had no idea of how much time had passed. His head was aching from the number of times Ali had ground the barrel of the gun into his temple. And he was shaking slightly from the tension of knowing that at any second he was just a single shot away from death. Hearing that Ali was ready to leave, made him freeze for a moment, believing that he would want Sam dead before he returned home. He wasn't prepared for what Ali did next.

"Then the time has come to load this with at least one bullet," Sam could hear Ali's smirk through the blindfold. He inhaled sharply, realizing that what'd gone before had just been a prelude to this final showdown. He heard Ali open the cylinder and insert a bullet, then close and spin it one more time. Sam was tense, stiff, fear filling him as he tried to hide his reaction from his captor. He knew he wasn't completely successful when he heard Ali's soft, sinister laughter. Once more the gun was ground against his temple, and once more he flinched at the dry click that happened next. Ali laughed again and Sam expected the gun to be put to his head one more time.

Instead Ali said, "And that is a sign from Allah that my plan will work." He looked at the men in the room with him. "Bring him," he directed as he left the room.

Sam froze for a second with shock, and then began struggling as they pulled him to his feet and out the door. His struggles were nothing more than an inconvenience to the strong men dragging him with them. And a moderate cuff to the back of his head was all it took for him to see how futile it was. He stumbled along with the men for several minutes, his legs so numb after being on his knees for so long, that even the pain from his twisted right ankle was muted. And then he was pushed and pulled up a narrow staircase and into the plane.

"Restrain him, there, on his knees, facing the windows," Ali instructed.

Sam was pulled further into the plane, and forced to his knees. The tie binding his hands behind his back was cut and his hands were jerked straight out away from his body. Sam cried out at the stabs of pain that shot through them from the sudden movement. They were fastened tightly to the armrests of the seats in front of him, holding him in place on his knees. He let his head drop forward, despair and fear engulfing him. He was going back to Afghanistan, a place he'd sworn never to return to, in the hands of his worst enemy. He saw no light at the end of his tunnel, just a train, running dark, on a collision course to crush him.

Sam was unused to the feelings of hopelessness that filled him. And yet, he saw no possible way to escape from the fate that Ali had planned for him. But he was still alive. And while he lived, he still had a choice, although it was only whether to surrender or to endure. But he knew he could endure more than anyone thought he could. So Sam was choosing to endure.

"Clean everything up," he heard Ali order. "Make sure nothing is left behind to indicate that we were here."

Ryan Sullivan was uneasy. He ran a small airport that was frequently used by small-time criminals with something to hide. But this group was setting all his radar off. They'd come in at night without any warning and intimidated Ryan's man on duty until he let them stay and keep their plane there. By the time Ryan got there in the morning, it was too late, they were already established. So Ryan kept his eyes on them, instructing Stevie Watts, his day "manager" to do the same.

Now the men had returned with a prisoner, and all Ryan's instincts were screaming at him to get out. He was on his laptop, looking for any information he could find on these men he didn't recognize, when a breaking news icon began flashing. Ryan clicked on it, finding his worst fears confirmed when he saw the headline: "SRU Officer Kidnapped by Taliban/Al Qaeda Terrorist!" A picture of the leader of the suspect group was prominently featured, labelled with the name Ali Achmed Adar.

Ryan didn't hesitate. He slapped the laptop closed, grabbed it and his car keys and headed out his secret exit. He abandoned his men without a single thought to their safety. He was too busy calculating who he could call that could get him out of this mess without too much fall-out landing on his head. Finally he opened his phone and dialed a number from memory. He didn't keep numbers in his phone – it cut down on the amount of evidence that could be collected against him if the phone ever ended up in police custody.

* * *

A/N: Now who did he call... Do you think it's anyone we know?


	8. Chapter 8

FF_992224_ 6/22/2014

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

A/N: Still dark. Ali is still NOT very nice to Sam...

A/N2: Now, to find out who he called...

* * *

_He was too busy calculating who he could call that could get him out of this mess without too much fall-out landing on his head. Finally he opened his phone and dialed a number from memory. He didn't keep numbers in his phone – it cut down on the amount of evidence that could be collected against him if the phone ever ended up in police custody._

Bill Braddock was ramrod straight, no emotion showing on his face, as he stood next to Norm Holleran when they began the press conference. He held that composure as Holleran introduced the two of them; and then informed the press that not only were they looking for a Middle-Eastern terrorist on Canadian soil, but that the terrorist had kidnapped one of their best officers, a member of the elite SRU Team One. When the question arose as to Braddock's presence, Bill revealed that the officer in question was retired military, JTF2, and a current member of the reserves. He went on to inform the reporters that the officer had been targeted and it was believed that the informant was a traitor found within the ranks of that elite military unit.

Shock silenced the reporters for one split second before one asked the question of the hour. He wanted to know if they could reveal the name of the officer involved; if his family had been informed of the situation.

"Yes," Braddock replied, "his family has been notified. The officer involved is my son, Constable Sam Braddock." All the cameras in the room zeroed in on the general's face, although shock once again delayed any more questions. His expression stayed the same cold, composed, granite mask that he'd worn since the moment he'd entered the room, through all the resulting questions. When more personal questions began to be shouted, Bill looked at Norm, who took control of the room.

"Please get this information out to the public as quickly as possible. Here are pictures of the two principals involved." Pictures of both Ali and Sam split the screen behind the commander. "If they are spotted, the public is urged to stay away and contact the police as soon as possible. Ali Achmed Adar is considered extremely dangerous; do not attempt to approach him yourself. Thank you for your time." With that the two leaders left the media room, questions still being shouted as the doors closed behind them.

A few hours later, the three groups: Team One, Team Two, and JTF2, were melded together in the conference room, all the injured officers at one end of the conference table with Spike. They were researching Corporal Jackson, trying to confirm the link between him and Ali.

The entire group was startled when Winnie paged, "Hot Call, Teams One and Two. Hot Call… It's on the comms."

Greg exchanged glances with Troy, quickly getting to the weapon cage and getting their ear pieces, and then finished gearing up with their teams. "We're on comms," Greg announced as they made their way to their SUVs.

"Putting you through now," Winnie said shortly.

"Boss," Greg was unprepared to hear Kevin "Wordy" Wordsworth's voice.

"Wordy, what do you have?" Greg asked, tersely.

"About six months ago, we busted the owner of a small airport just outside Vaughn," Wordy began. "We had information that there were illegal guns being run through there from the States. Well, by the time the investigation was finished, the owner, Ryan Sullivan, was giving us information in exchange for probation." Wordy took a small breath. "He just called and said that, four nights ago, Ali Achmed Adar came in on a plane with ten men and basically bullied his night manager into letting him stay. They left two men guarding the plane, and haven't been back until now." Again Wordy took a breath. "Boss, Ryan said Ali brought back a prisoner… a live prisoner."

Shocked silence, followed by explosive curses, was heard over the comms. They quickly faded back to silence. "Thanks, Wordy," Greg's voice was husky.

"Bring him home, boss," Wordy returned, before ending the call.

Ali quickly ordered the two men with him to begin. Sam didn't know what was beginning, but had an idea that it wasn't good news for him. When the whip sliced into his back, he knew he'd been right. Some kind of metal tip on the end of the lash dug through his t-shirt and into his skin. He cried out after the fifth lash, and screamed after the tenth. Sam lost count after that. When the lashes finally stopped coming, Sam hung from the bonds on his wrists, agony flaring through his back, blood trickling down from the gashes that littered his torso. He wanted desperately to lose consciousness, but didn't figure he had a chance of that happening soon.

Sam collapsed when his bonds were cut. But he wasn't allowed to rest. He was twisted around and refastened with his back to the windows, facing the men who'd been torturing him. But the blindfold ensured that he couldn't see them. So he was unprepared when the whip bit into his chest, causing the same agony and the same gash as the ones that littered his back. He couldn't suppress his cries or screams, but the gag muted them. The beating finally stopped when the rest of Ali's men returned to the plane. Sam hung there, barely conscious, but knowing that he had to gather as much intel as he could, whenever he could.

"Is everything cleaned up, Mohammad?" Ali asked.

"We could not find the leader who runs the airport," a voice replied. "What should we do?"

"We have not the time to waste on him," Ali replied. "We must leave, now." Sam heard him turn away. "Farad, tell the pilot to take off."

Sam's hands clenched and he closed his eyes in despair. But there was nothing he could do to stop Ali from taking him back to Afghanistan. He was still moaning in pain, but jerked, startled, when the gun was ground into his temple again. He forced his tears back in his eyes as he waited to see whether he would survive this time. The dry click brought a wave of relief that pushed him over the edge into unconsciousness. He welcomed the pain-free, tension-free blackness.

Teams One and Two raced through the city to the airport located in the outskirts. Wordy had provided the address of the airport, the layout, and the hangar that the terrorists were using. Tension was high as they raced to rescue their lost teammate in time. Plans were made and roles parceled out during the frantic ride. They wanted to be prepared for all scenarios as soon as they entered the airport.

A single despairing curse filled the comms, as they saw the small jet take off while they were still making their way into the airport. A deep silence fell for a moment. And then Ed's voice came over the comms, hoarse but composed, "Everyone head to their pre-assigned positions. We still need to clear the scene and determine what's happened." He was answered by equally hoarse, and equally composed, "Copy that's."

A half hour later, Ed stood next to Greg and Troy, waiting for the final results of the investigation. Greg sighed silently but heavily as his cell phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, he composed his features and quietly answered the call.

"Yes, sir," he murmured. A sigh accompanied, "No, sir, we apparently missed them. We saw a small jet leaving as we entered the airport. We're still checking, but we're pretty sure Ali took Sam with him. At least, we haven't found Sam's body yet." He sighed again. "No, sir, there doesn't appear to be anyone here alive to question. So far, we have five bodies. We're taking pictures of the faces and will send them to Wordy. Wordy has the owner of the airport, a Ryan Sullivan, in custody and will verify identities with him. Yes, sir, we'll keep you apprised." A final sigh, before Greg said softly, "Tell the general we're sorry, sir." Ed and Troy didn't know what the commander said, but after Greg ended the call, he scrubbed his hands over his face before looking to his colleagues and asking, "So, where are we?"

* * *

A/N: So, now what? How will they get Sam back?


	9. Chapter 9

FF_992224_ 6/26/2014

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

A/N: Still dark. Ali is still NOT very nice to Sam...

* * *

_Ed and Troy didn't know what the commander said, but after Greg ended the call, he scrubbed his hands over his face before looking to his colleagues and asking, "So, where are we?"_

Sam didn't know how long he was out before the water in his face brought him back to the surface. He moaned once, before getting himself back under control. A grunt was all he let escape when his head was jerked up by the hand in his hair. He could feel the plane moving and knew that they were already in the air. Otherwise, Ali wouldn't have left his seat to torture him yet again.

The gun was ground into his left temple once more, and Sam knew that if he survived, it would take a long time for the "muzzle-stamp" bruise to fade. While it was visible, it would horrify anyone who saw it, because there was **nothing** it could be but the impression of a gun that'd been held to his head. "Normal" people couldn't fathom having that done to them. Even his family and friends would be horrified, because it would tell them approximately how many times Ali had done this to him. The dry click brought him out of his thoughts, and he suppressed his dark humor at the thought that he'd become so used to Ali's game, he'd gotten distracted waiting to see if he was going to die this time.

And then all thought fled when the whip crashed into his chest. This one was different from the first: it had multiple strands, and each strand had several knots tied along its length, causing it to feel like a dozen fists slamming into him at the same time. Sam couldn't hold back his screams at each lash. He hung limply from his bonds, lacking the strength to hold himself up. But he didn't lose consciousness. He cried out in pain as they cut his bonds and turned him again. And then the beating began once more. Sam couldn't hear his screams anymore, not because he wasn't expressing his agony, but because his voice was gone. He didn't know how long the beating lasted this time, but it was ended when Ali told them to desist, not when he lost consciousness.

"Mohammad," Ali commanded. When the other man moved to him, they had several moments of quiet conversation before Mohammad moved back to Sam. Sam was surprised when the cloth holding the gag in his mouth was untied, and the gag itself pulled out. He had to struggle not to vomit as the noxious cloth was removed. Mohammad held something to his mouth and commanded in Pashtu, "_Drink_."

Sam tentatively, then gratefully drank the cool water that was offered.

Again something was held to his mouth, and he was commanded, "_Eat_."

Though Sam slowly ate the slice of bread as it was offered, he was confused. He thought that Ali wanted him dead. This care made it seem like Ali wanted him alive for some time. Uneasiness filled him at the possibilities of what that meant for his future. Still, he ate every bite of both pieces of bread that were offered. He had to suppress his gag reflex though, when the fetid cloth was returned to his mouth. The cloth holding it in was replaced, tied even tighter, causing the corners of his mouth to crack and bleed. Sam sighed mentally; it seemed like his break was coming to an end.

Sam jerked when Ali spoke next to his ear. He hadn't heard the other man approaching. "I think you are really going to like this next whip," he said, smirking. "It is my favorite. The diamond dust on the lash provides endless entertainment."

Sam shuddered. But the whip wasn't immediately put into play. First Ali ground the gun into his temple again, going through the game twice and resetting it after the first five clicks. Sam knew that he was becoming desensitized to the brutal game. He was distracted during the wait for the resulting clicks, his mind wandering everywhere from what was going on with his friends and family, to what was going to happen to him after they arrived in Afghanistan. It wasn't until the whip bit into his back, that he was drawn back to the events that were happening to him now.

The break had allowed his voice to recover a bit, so his screams were audible through the gag for a short time, until it was gone again. Sam could feel the blood running down his back, as each slash bit into his skin, shredding his shirt in the process. He couldn't suppress his screams and didn't waste the remains of his strength with even trying. He was saving his strength for when he absolutely had to hold on. When the beating finally stopped, Sam was hanging limply from his bonds again. The rest of the plane ride was spent in the same manner, with periods of the brutal game of Russian Roulette interspersed with beatings with the whips, although the diamond dust whip was used sparingly, because apparently Ali wanted him to arrive alive wherever they were going.

Sam was re-fastened more securely to the arms of the seats when the plane approached its destination. Although he'd been given water once more before landing, he'd had nothing more to eat. And the gag and blindfold were tightened to the point of pain. His knees were aching from bearing his weight for so long. And his legs were cramping from the position he'd been forced to endure. Sam took a choking breath, gathered his strength, and just endured. There was nothing else he could do at this point.

Sam was ignored for a while after the plane landed. Finally Ali ordered Farad to bring him. Sam couldn't stop the cry of pain as his arms were released from the seats, twisted behind his back and bound again. His legs gave way as he was pulled upright, so Farad directed another man to grab his other arm and they just dragged him along. He exited the plane the same way he'd entered it, pushed and pulled from both directions, with no choice in his movement. He was shoved up into the back of a truck and at least four men entered behind him. Sam knew that he still had no options, except to endure.

And so he endured the long hours in the back of the truck: bound, gagged, and blindfolded. He endured the random blows when the men who travelled with him got bored. He endured the more painful cigarette burns and beatings when the convoy he was apparently a part of halted for a break. And he endured the hunger pains and thirst as nothing was given to him for the duration of the ride. Sam estimated that it had been about eight hours before the convoy came to a halt for the night.

Sam was taken into a building and his hands refastened in front of him. A rope was threaded through his bonds and he was pulled upward until his feet just touched the ground. He didn't try to hold back his screams when he was beaten again with the metal tipped and knotted whips. Ali's voice in his ear brought a shudder, but no other reaction. Ali whispered his hatred in his words about vengeance and justice. Sam endured them, too. He was holding on, using as much of his strength as he needed to endure, but no more. He knew he had to ration his strength, and he was doing it as best he could. Dread filled him but he showed no signs of it when Ali put the gun to his head once more. Five times the chamber was spun after five empty clicks. Sam had to wonder if there really _**was**_ a bullet in the gun. But it didn't matter – he still could do nothing more than endure.

The SRU and JTF2 teams gathered together after several days of investigation and research. "What do we have?" Robert Braddock asked, starting the meeting.

"We have a link between Corporal Jackson and Ali Achmed Adar," Spike stated definitively.

"What did you find?" Commander Holleran asked.

"We found a series of payments from Ali to a bank account in the Caymans. There were also a series of withdrawals from this account that exactly match deposits into an account registered to Corporal Robert Jackson." It was Alex Haile who responded.

"It's only because of the media storm that your press conference generated, that we were able to get this information," Frank Mueller said. "The bank actually contacted us when the president saw a re-broadcast of the interview with you and the general."

"Is there anything there that could help us locate them before it's too late?" General Braddock asked quietly, his eyes hooded.

"No," Spike admitted. He met the general's gaze. "We're no closer to having any information on their location." He sighed quietly. "But we have verified that the bank that Ali used to send the payments is located in Kandahar."

The general let out a single curse, and moved towards the window of the conference room. A cell phone rang into the resulting silence. It was the general who pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He listened more than he spoke, just asking for confirmation several times before he ended the call.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke, turning to face the teams as he did, "That was General Ralph Forrester of the United States Army. They've been contacted by someone claiming to represent Malik Farad Al-Hamad, the head of the Taliban in Afghanistan. Apparently this contact is saying that Ali Adar contacted Al-Hamad, wanting to give him Sam." He ignored the reactions to that statement and continued. "He claims that the Taliban want no part of it, and that they will return Sam to the Americans as soon as he's in their custody."

"Do the Americans believe them?" Holleran asked.

"They're looking for confirmation that the representative is who he says he is right now," Braddock replied. "Ralph is a friend and he'll let me know as soon as they've either confirmed or refuted the contact's credentials."

"And in the meantime, sir…" Bryan Jamison asked.

Braddock let out a short, heavy sigh. "In the meantime, we do what we've been doing… and wait."

"Yes, sir," Bryan replied, disappointed. He wanted to do _**something**_ that felt like it was making a difference. Looking around the room and then back at the general, he could see that he wasn't the only one.

* * *

A/N: Please let me know if you're still reading...


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

A/N: Still dark. We find out what Ali wants Sam alive for...

A/N: _Words in italics are spoken in Pashtu._

* * *

_He wanted to do __**something**__ that felt like it was making a difference. Looking around the room and then back at the general, he could see that he wasn't the only one._

Sam endured three more days in the same pattern before something changed: three days of travelling punctuated by blows, burns, hunger, and thirst, followed by whipping and the Russian Roulette, before a small meal of bread and water. Then he was given a short time for some uneasy rest before the next day dawned and the cycle began again. They stopped early on the fourth day, and Sam felt dread spread through him as he contemplated why that might be. He didn't have long to wait. He could feel the change in the air around them as he was dragged inside… inside something. He inhaled sharply as he realized that he'd been brought into a cave… into _**the**_ caves… the tunnels that riddled the mountains of Afghanistan. He immediately began fighting as hard as he could, knowing his chances of being rescued would drop to zero once he was fully inside the Taliban controlled tunnels.

But again, his struggles were just an irritation to the men dragging him along. A kick to his bad ankle had him crying out in pain and collapsing back into the hold of his captors. The pain kept him from trying again – that and the fact that he was already five minutes inside the tunnels. He knew that was far enough inside that getting away from his guards wouldn't get him free. There were too many Taliban around. He could already hear them around his party. The murmur of soft voices in Pashtu continued for the additional fifteen minutes it took them to arrive at their destination.

And then Ali's voice drowned out the other voices. His demand in Pashtu brought immediate silence. "_No, I need to see him immediately! I have a gift for our illustrious leader!_"

Sam heard another quieter voice finally agree. Rustling noises confused him until he realized that someone was disarming his captors. He knew that didn't give him an opportunity to escape, though. The leader's guards would make sure of that. He didn't fight as he was led forward again, knowing that there was still no escape at this point. He paid as much attention to his surroundings as he could, though. He had to be prepared for any opportunity.

He was stopped again shortly, realizing that he was just behind Ali when the other man spoke again. "_Brother, I have brought you a present! I have finally found the enemy of our people known as the Ghost. I have brought him here, so that you may punish him as is fitting such a great enemy of our people. Also, I humbly ask to be reinstated in our ranks as a reward so that I might fight alongside all of my brothers!_"

"What is _**wrong**_ with you?" a harsh voice asked in English, even as Sam was thrust forward and to his knees. He quickly realized he was kneeling in front of the leader Ali had given him to. "Remove the blindfold," the voice ordered, before Ali could respond.

Sam blinked as the blindfold was removed. His face showed no recognition, but he knew the man in front of him was Malik Farad Al-Hamad, the leader of the Taliban in Afghanistan. He'd kept updated on the list of the most wanted international terrorists, just like the rest of his SRU colleagues. Malik examined his face for a moment, before nodding at something behind him and commanding, "There," gesturing with his hand to the area in front of Sam. Sam could tell that he was speaking English because he wanted Sam to understand what was going on.

Sam kept his face composed as Ali was dragged by two of Malik's men into the space in front of him and forced to his knees. His hands were bound behind him, mirroring Sam's. As he started to speak, a gag was forced into his mouth and his words became a mumble of unintelligible sounds. Malik eyed him with disapproval.

"You really are an idiot," Malik said to Ali. "We have already been contacted by both the Americans and the Canadians, threatening all kinds of reprisals for this man's kidnapping." He backhanded Ali. "And you want to be _**reinstated**_?" He snorted. "You think this is what our people need right now? The Americans were finally getting ready to leave our country. Now, no one knows what they will do. In this one action, you have single-handedly put our people in more danger than they have been in, for any of the past five years."

Ali was staring at Malik in shock. It appeared that he'd never anticipated this kind of reception. He tried to speak through the gag once more.

Malik backhanded him again. "I wish to hear nothing that you have to say!" he exclaimed. His eyes went back to Sam's composed face. "I thought _**you**_ might enjoy seeing your kidnapper get what he deserves, though." He held his hand out and a revolver was placed into it. Ignoring Ali's ineffective struggles against his men's hold, Malik placed the revolver against Ali's left temple and quickly pulled the trigger. Sam flinched just a little as the sound of the shot echoed through the room, the side of Ali's head exploding from the force of the bullet.

Malik now examined the group of Ali's men who had been herded together by his men. "_Brothers, you have a choice_," he said, his voice softly menacing. "_You can choose to swear allegiance to me, or you can choose to remain loyal to the traitor and share his fate_." Unsurprisingly, all of Ali's men swore allegiance to the leader in front of them.

Malik gestured them out, but spoke quietly to his man who was following, "_Mahmoud, put them to work, but keep an eye on them. And keep them together. They will all pay if any one of them tries to betray us._"

Once they were gone, Malik turned back to Sam. Again he closely examined Sam's face. "_Bind his hands in front of him_," he quietly ordered one of his remaining men.

Sam fought the temptation to fight when the bonds on his wrists were cut. He knew this was still not his opportunity. After taking the measure of Malik, he wasn't sure he was actually going to get one, but he refused to give up yet.

"_So, brother, what are you going to do with him?_" one of the men asked, curiously, as they re-fastened his hands in front of his body.

"_I will return him to his people,_" Malik said, smiling a very sinister smile at Sam.

"_Will that not cause even more problems when he speaks of his experiences?_" the same man asked.

"_Oh, Khalid, I did not say I would return him to his people while he still lives_," Malik smirked evilly at Sam.

Sam had to struggle not to react. He wasn't sure whether Malik knew he spoke Pashtu and every advantage would help. Yet, he could do nothing while they strung him up by his wrists to a metal ring attached to the wall. And then the beating began. Malik's smooth, amused, calm voice carefully directed his men in the method and strength of each beating. First they used fists and feet. Then they wielded switches. Finally Malik distributed whips. The only bright side was that he didn't have Ali's diamond dusted whip. Still, the metal-tipped and the knotted whips did enough damage. Sam was finding it hard to hold on to any piece of consciousness by the time Malik decided that it was enough.

In fact, Sam realized that Malik had no idea that he still held on to any bit of consciousness when he said, "_He is dying. Take him to the other prisoners. We need it to look like we made at least an attempt to save him, and I do not wish to waste my physician's efforts on a dying infidel._"

Sam collapsed limply when he was released from the ring. He was dragged through the tunnels to a long corridor containing cells. A cell was opened and Sam was pushed inside. There was nothing to cushion his fall because the inhabitants of the cell were unprepared for his arrival. Several of them gathered around him, looking up, startled, when Khalid announced, "His fate is yours to determine. It is doubtful, though, that he will survive."

Sam played possum until the door clanged shut and the sounds of the men outside moved away. The men fussing over him froze when his eyes fluttered open. One quickly reached for the cloth holding the gag in his mouth. After struggling with the knot for a moment, he quickly untied it. Pulling it away, he gently turned Sam to his side as he pulled the noxious cloth from the inside of his mouth. When he was done retching, Sam tried to speak. The man who'd removed the gag leaned down to listen when he tried to moisten his lips with his tongue. "Need to move away from the door," Sam whispered. He allowed them to carry him to a position further in the cell.

There were six concerned faces who met his eyes when he recovered from the pain of the move. Before he could speak, one of the men held a bottle to his mouth. Sam gratefully drank the tepid water, knowing he needed it to hold on to whatever strength he had left. He lay unmoving as the men quickly worked to make him as comfortable as possible, placing a rolled-up piece of clothing under his head and pulling a blanket up to his waist. He was still positioned on his side, so his torn chest and back were both spared the pressure of his body.

When they started getting things together to treat his injuries, Sam whispered, "Wait."

The man in charge quietly looked at him and asked, "Name and rank, soldier?" Sam could tell he was a ranking officer, though there was no insignia on the uniform shirt he wore.

"Master Corporal Samuel Braddock, JTF2, retired," Sam whispered in response. He watched the shock spread over the others' faces at the word "retired".

"You're a civilian?" one of the other men finally got out.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to hold on to his composure. "I'm a member of the Toronto Police Strategic Response Unit, Team One," he finally replied, opening his eyes and meeting the commanding officer's gaze.

"Then why are you here?" the CO asked the question that was plain on everyone's face.

"Ali… Ali Adar found out who I was." Sam swallowed hard. "He brought me here to trade with Malik for his former position in the Taliban."

"Ali Adar has been fixated on the Ghost for the past five years," one of the men stated confidently. Realization crossed his face a few moments later as he and the rest of the men connected the dots.

"_**You**_ were the Ghost," the CO stated, meeting Sam's eyes.

"Yeah," Sam admitted.

"So what happened to Ali?" the man who knew about Ali's obsession asked, quietly.

"He's dead," Sam swallowed hard again, his mouth dry. He gratefully accepted another drink from the CO before continuing. "Malik killed him in front of me."

"So what's next? Why are you here?" the CO asked.

"Malik said they're going to give me back," Sam's voice was fading. He met the disbelief in the other man's eyes.

"They're just going to give you back… just like that?" he questioned.

Sam's mouth twisted into a pained smile. "They don't intend for me to be alive when I get there," he admitted. He quietly eyed the officer, trying to determine if he would be receptive to his next comments.

"I'm Colonel Mark Smith," the CO introduced, realizing that Sam had no idea who they were, "United States Marine Corp." He gestured at the man who knew Ali, "This is Major John Sheppard, United States Air Force." He began pointing to the other men that surrounded Sam. "Lieutenant Aaron Franks, US Army, Corporal Mike Francis, US Marine Corp, Chief Petty Officer Pat James, US Navy SEALs, and Private Rob Davis, US Army."

"Can anyone get us out of this cell?" Sam asked, his eyes closing and fists clenching as he fought back the pain.

"I can get the door open," Pat James, the SEAL admitted. "But without a way out of the tunnels, getting out of the cell doesn't help."

"I know the tunnels," Sam admitted. "But I can't get out of here by myself." He forced his eyes open. "I need… I need a promise," he searched Smith's face. "I don't want…" his voice broke and his eyes closed as a wave of weakness brought the tide of unconsciousness closer. Sam fought it back, using up some of his precious strength. He forced his eyes to open and met Smith's gaze again. "I don't want to die here," he said softly. "I want… I _**need**_ to go home." He let the other man see what he was feeling in his eyes, though his face stayed composed.

"I give you my word," Smith said solemnly, "that I'll do everything in my power to get you home."

"Thanks," Sam whispered. There were tears in his eyes.

"Mike," Smith quickly directed the other man to begin to attend to Sam's wounds. Sam lost the battle for consciousness as the pain of their ministrations pushed him over the edge.

* * *

A/N: So, how will they get back home?

A/N2: Don't forget what I said about the names... This is still not a crossover...


	11. Chapter 11

FF_992224_ 7/2/2014

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

* * *

"_Mike," Smith quickly directed the other man to begin to attend to Sam's wounds. Sam lost the battle for consciousness as the pain of their ministrations pushed him over the edge._

General William Braddock was a frozen statue in his seat in the jet that was carrying him to Afghanistan. The jet also carried Major Robert Braddock and the JTF2 Team including: Lieutenant Bryan Jamison, and Corporals Pete Mills, Justin Carlson, and Sean Morrissey. Corporal Matt Jamison had been left in Toronto under the premise that Ali probably still wanted him dead, and it was better not to give him another target. Corporal Frank Mueller was also left behind, due to his injuries from the crash. However, the JTF2 team was supplemented with SRU Commander Norm Holleran, Sergeant Gregory Parker, and Team Leader Ed Lane.

Conversation was minimal; the journey having been arranged after US Army General Ralph Forrester spoke with Braddock again with confirmation that the man who'd initiated the contact with them was definitely affiliated with the Taliban and Malik Al-Hamad specifically. General Braddock arranged the private jet, because they had no idea how this situation would play out and he didn't want to be tied to the military's equipment and timetables. He had permission from the Americans to land at the airfield they controlled, since they would be meeting with American leaders and any operation would be run jointly with American troops.

Though Robby Braddock had stopped at his brother's side several times during the journey, speaking softly to him, the general had apparently refused any and all accommodations offered. He sat nearly motionless the entire flight. The only time he made any significant movement was to fasten his seatbelt when they were approaching their destination. Tension ratcheted higher as the plane made its approach to the Afghanistan capitol.

The next thing Sam was conscious of was a cool cloth covering his temple and eyes, easing a little of the deep ache from the "muzzle-stamp" bruise that was rioting color across his skin. John Sheppard was leaning over him, speaking softly: reassuring him of where he was and who was with him.

"How long…" Sam asked anxiously. He knew they didn't have a lot of time.

"An hour and a half," Sheppard replied. "You really needed that rest," he continued, a cautionary hand on Sam's shoulder.

"I know," Sam conceded, "but we need to get moving pretty quickly."

"We're waiting for it to get a little later, so the tunnels are less crowded," Colonel Smith had apparently heard Sam and Sheppard speaking, and joined them. He saw Sam open his mouth to speak and gently interrupted, "Call me Mark, we don't use titles here."

"Yes, sir," Sam said automatically.

The other two men laughed. "That sounds really ingrained," Smith commented.

"From the time I was a toddler," Sam said, wryly.

"You said Braddock, right?" Smith asked. When Sam nodded, he continued. "Are you any relation to…" his voice trailed off when Sam interrupted.

"The General?" he asked.

"I was going to say the Major," Smith smirked, "but we'll go with the General."

Sam could see that the entire group was interested in the conversation. "The General's my father and the Major's my uncle," he admitted.

"No wonder Malik's pissed," Rob Davis mused. "That's a lot of weight behind any accusations."

"How long 'til it's time to go?" Sam asked quietly. His voice had recovered somewhat but was still hoarse and rough.

"Half hour," Smith replied. "You should eat a little and get as re-hydrated as you can."

Sam nodded mutely, yet the thought of food was not very appetizing. He knew that he needed as much fuel for his strength as possible, though. The journey from the tunnels wasn't going to be easy, but Sam was determined not to die there. He wouldn't let Ali and Malik win. Still silent, he accepted the small chunks of bread he was handed and slowly consumed them. Water was offered after every few bites, and Sam accepted every drink. He knew the water was even more important than the bread in his fight to make his way from the caves.

"You said you know a way from the caves," Smith began. "Are we backtracking your way in?"

"No," Sam admitted. "I've been here before."

Shock held the other men silent and Sam quietly continued. "It's classified, but I know a back way out of here." He closed his eyes briefly as memories assaulted him. The others watched with concern as he paled from remembering that previous mission. When he opened his eyes, Sam saw their concern and said, "I'm ok," softly. He grinned at their looks of disbelief. It dispelled the old memories, giving him a shot of adrenaline and increasing his hoarded strength.

He reached a hand up to Smith, noticing that the wounds on his wrists from his bonds had been wrapped with some kind of faded cloth. He didn't waste his strength on words, just grit his teeth and forced himself to his feet. He swayed for a moment, panting through the pain.

"Are you sure…?" Smith asked, quietly. Sam could see how concerned he was.

"We go now," Sam whispered through the pain. He held Smith's eyes as he continued, "Or I won't make it at all."

Smith nodded silently and slipped under Sam's right arm. The place on his other side was taken by Sheppard. Sam watched as Pat James worked the lock on the door. Mike Francis, Aaron Franks, and Rob Davis waited at the door, ready to rush through and take out any guards on the other side. Pat counted down from three on his fingers, and yanked the door open. The other three men rushed out behind him, Pat and Rob to the right, Mike and Aaron to the left. They quickly subdued the sentries on either side of the door.

The unconscious guards were moved inside the cell, their weapons distributed to Pat and Mike, and the seven men began their trek: Pat and Rob in front, Pat scouting ahead and Rob just in front of Sam, John and Mark. Mike and Aaron brought up the rear: Aaron right up behind the middle three, with Mike falling back to scout behind the group. They moved moderately quickly through the tunnels, Sam giving directions to Mark, who passed the information on to Rob and Pat.

After about ten minutes, Sam gestured for a halt. He whispered something to Mark, and then leaned his shoulder against the wall, taking a breather. Mark silently gestured Pat and Rob into the room that was just ahead. Aaron moved past Sam and Mark to guard the lead, while Mike stopped behind them, keeping an eye out on their "six".

Five minutes later, Pat and Rob returned to the group, carrying a variety of weapons. Rob quickly handed automatic weapons to the other four former POWs. He returned to the room, while Pat handed out two extra clips each. When Rob returned, he was carrying silenced handguns. Pat returned to the armory while Rob handed out the five handguns he'd retrieved. When Pat finally rejoined the others, he distributed extra clips for the handguns. Mark took Sam's extra clips, while Pat handed John a long, cased rifle.

"I thought Sam might need that," he said, throwing a smile towards the injured police officer.

Sam smirked back, but stayed silent, hoarding his strength. Quickly getting a drink of water from Mark, Sam and the group headed onward, returning to their previous positions. Sam did his best to carry his own weight, but the further they travelled, the more he had to rely on John and Mark to help him along. It was another ten minutes before he signaled for another stop.

This time, Sam gestured for Pat to come back and join him. Mike moved up to join the other four as well, while Rob and Aaron kept watch. Sam asked Pat about his demolition skills, while the others listened with interest. When they discovered that the room they'd just approached was where their captors stored their explosives, their eyes widened. Sam and Pat had an intense discussion of how the explosives could be used to their maximum effect, finally culminating in a plan that both men were satisfied with. They'd decided that a timed explosion was the best bet, with enough time for the group to leave the tunnels, but not too much to miss their pursuers. Because they all knew they'd be pursued just as soon as it was discovered that they were gone.

Pat moved inside the room and began setting up the timed device with Mike's help. Sam slid down the wall to sit on the ground while they waited. Again he accepted a drink, this time from John. Closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall of the tunnel, he rested as much as he was able in the current situation. When Mike announced that they were getting ready to set the timer, he forced his eyes open and accepted John and Mark's help in getting to his feet. When he was upright, Mike signaled Pat that it was ok to set the timer.

On their rush from the tunnels, Sam did his best to suppress the sounds of his pain. He knew they didn't have a choice; they needed to make as much distance in the twenty minutes before the explosion went off. But they were moving so fast, just the movement filled him with agony. Sam was so focused on keeping going and suppressing the sounds of his pain that he didn't recognize when Mark and John tried to get him to stop. They were nearing the exit of the tunnels and they wanted to scout the area before moving through. But all Sam knew was that suddenly there was a drag on his arms.

Exchanging concerned looks, Sheppard looked at Smith, indicating that he'd try to get through to Sam. In a soft but firm voice he suddenly barked, "Aten hut!"

Sam froze, stiffening into attention. He blinked and gasped as his sudden stop shot a bolt of pain through his body. By the time he forced the pain down, John Sheppard was in front of him, motioning him to stop and get down. Sam nodded, understanding that he'd been too out of it for Sheppard to use normal methods to get him to react. He fought to control the soft moans of pain that wanted to escape.

Pat came back and said, softly, "We have a problem. One of the tangoes is in a spot we can't reach." He quickly examined Sam. "Sam, can you…?"

"Yeah," Sam said, "I'm good." He ignored the rolled eyes, and asked, "Can you help me into position?"

Knowing time was running out before the explosion, Pat helped Sam into position. Quickly calling the 'go', Pat and Rob moved on the targets they could reach as the rifle barked once and the third target disappeared. John and Mark got Sam back to his feet, while Aaron picked up the rifle and returned it to the case.

It was only a few seconds later that Pat and Rob signaled that the coast was clear. They quickly left the tunnels, continuing for another six to seven minutes. Rob checked his watch, and then motioned them all to halt and get down. Sam wasn't out of it this time and didn't require John or Mark to do anything to get his attention. They were only settled for a moment before the explosion rocked the area.

It was after everything settled again that Sam pulled the cell phone from one of his pants pockets. A grin twisted his mouth when the others just stared at him in shock. "I grabbed it from one of the guys who was guarding the cell," he explained, his voice hoarse with suppressed pain. He began manipulating the phone.

"What are you doing?" Mike asked.

"Downloading an app," Sam replied. "My teammate created it. It works off satellite and GPS."

"How do you even have service?" Mark asked, puzzled. They were out in the middle of the Afghani mountains.

Sam looked up and met his eyes. "Sorry, that's TS," he said, referring to the "Top Secret" designation. After Mark nodded his acceptance, he doggedly continued to work the phone, though the pain was making his fingers clumsy. Finally he got the app loaded. Another couple of keystrokes and he murmured to himself, "Ok, Spike, Raf, Jules, and Wordy are in Toronto." He'd expected that. He'd also expected that Greg and Ed wouldn't be. He waited as the map of his current position came up on the screen, trying to ignore the pain pulsing through him.

"Sam," it was Sheppard's hand on his arm that brought him back from battling the pain. He realized he was moaning quietly. He clumsily handed John the phone, nodding at the screen. He indicated the single dot, blinking in the middle of the Afghan mountains. "Us," he stated. Then he indicated the location where there were two dots blinking together. It wasn't that far from their position. "My TL: Ed… and the Boss: Sarge…," he said. "Probably the general, too… "

He paused, still having to work hard to control the pain. Finally, he continued. "I'm pretty sure… Malik is going through… the Americans… so General Forrester… is probably there too."

"You mean General Ralph Forrester of the US Army?" Aaron asked.

Sam gave a weary nod.

"Go there…" Sam whispered, "go home…" He looked up at Sheppard. "I think… I'm going… to pass out… now," he tried to smirk, but his eyes closed and he collapsed before he could finish. Sheppard caught him.

"I can't believe he lasted that long," Mark said. He looked at Aaron Franks. "You know General Forrester?" he asked.

Aaron nodded. "A good officer," he said. He looked down at Sam. "I'll take first shift," he offered. When Mark nodded, Aaron leaned down and picked Sam up in a fireman's carry.

The others quickly got organized and the group headed out.

* * *

A/N: And so, they escape...


	12. Chapter 12

FF_992224_ 7/6/2014

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

A/N: Six more chapters after this one...

A/N2: A second shout out to another TV series I love...

* * *

_Aaron nodded. "A good officer," he said. He looked down at Sam. "I'll take first shift," he offered. When Mark nodded, Aaron leaned down and picked Sam up in a fireman's carry._

_The others quickly got organized and the group headed out._

Bill Braddock slowly paced the quarters he was sharing with his friend Ralph Forrester. He was impatient for the Taliban's representative to contact the Americans again. He wanted his son back.

An hour later, Bill sent for the JTF2 team and their SRU companions when Forrester's aide, Lieutenant Mitchell Gardner, came in and informed the generals that they'd finally received another message from the Taliban contact. After everyone had gathered together, General Forrester gestured to the aide to play the message.

A black screen came up on the monitor and a voice spoke in heavily accented English, "My brother sent a message for you."

The screen flickered for a moment, before resolving into the interior of a cave and a face that they all recognized: Malik Farad Al-Hamad. He also spoke in English. "I do not yet have Constable Braddock here with me," he said, regret painted on his face. The men watching knew that most of the emotion was faked. "However, Ali sent a recording to prove to me that he has the Constable." Malik indicated something to someone outside their view.

The screen flickered once more before resolving into a picture of Sam. Shocked curses were quickly suppressed as the group took in his appearance. He was hanging by his hands, his head hanging down, until a hand in his hair pulled his face into full view of the camera. Again shocked curses escaped as the lurid bruise on Sam's left temple came into view. And those curses were once more choked off as the recording continued to show a savage beating administered to the already battered man. It ended when it became obvious that Sam was unconscious, fading into black.

Again Malik's face filled the screen. "I will do my best to encourage Ali to release the Constable into my custody before it is too late. But understand this: I have no responsibility for the condition of the man until then. I will let you know as soon as the constable is in my custody and will make every effort to return him to you in the best condition possible."

The room was silent as the recording ended, concern for Sam evident on most faces. General Braddock seemed frozen, his face a blank, rigid mask. Major Braddock's face was also a blank mask, but his eyes blazed with the pain of watching his nephew beaten.

Ralph Forrester put a hand on his friend's shoulder, "We'll get him back," he vowed.

When Braddock just nodded silently, he knew that he hadn't reassured his friend, but there was really nothing else he could say.

Rob Braddock turned to the others. "Be ready," he ordered, his voice hoarse with suppressed emotion. "We don't know when we'll have to move."

Bryan Jamison saluted and replied, "Yes, sir!" He quickly ushered the others from the room, leaving the two generals with the major and Commander Holleran.

When Bill Braddock finally moved to a seat and almost collapsed into it, the others joined him. They began trying to cobble together a plan of action for the return of Sam, planning for both the best and the worst case scenarios.

Mark Smith gently settled Sam's unconscious form on the sand, cushioning his head, and doing his best not to jostle the injured officer. "We need to try to get him to drink some more water," he said to the other men who gathered around. This time, unlike the past two times they'd stopped, Sam's eyes fluttered when Mark gently dribbled a little water into his mouth.

Eagerly swallowing the small drink, Sam moaned when Mark moved the bottle away from his lips. He forced his eyes open and met Mark's concerned gaze. "More?" he whispered.

Mark nodded and gave him another small drink. He was going to caution Sam against too much at one time, but Sam forestalled his comment with another question. "Where are we?"

Pat crouched down at his other side, showing him the phone with the flashing dots. They had nearly reached the two that represented Ed and Greg. "Ok," Sam whispered. "So do you… mind if I… make a few… suggestions?"

Mark grinned as he gave Sam another drink. "Oh, so you're finally going to let us in on your plan?" he asked, smirking.

Sam's mouth twisted into a matching smirk, "Damn, you caught me," he whispered, back.

"So what's the plan, boss?" Mark asked again.

Sam's face got serious. "Aaron," he began. "You know General Forrester?"

Aaron nodded.

"Can you convince him to come with my father to his plane?" Sam asked.

"I can try," Aaron said, softly. "But who's going to convince your father to head to the plane?"

"Mark's going to give him a message that will convince him," Sam replied.

"And that would be…" Mark asked.

"Just tell him 'WWDWD'," Sam said, an involuntary smile crossing his face.

"He'll know what that means?" Mark questioned.

Sam just nodded. He gratefully accepted another drink from the officer.

"And what are the rest of us going to be doing?" Pat asked.

"You and John are going to be getting the plane ready to leave," Sam said. His voice was gaining a little strength.

"Got it, boss," John said, smiling at Sam.

"And us?" Rob indicated himself and Mike.

"You guys get to hang out with me," Sam said.

"We get the best gig!" Rob and Mike high-fived.

Sam let out a small laugh before wincing and falling silent. He accepted another drink from Mark before saying, "I guess we'd better get this show on the road." He waited for Rob and Mike to crouch down next to him. Slowly raising his arms over their shoulders, he let them wrap their free arms around his waist and gently hoist him to his feet. He gasped with pain.

"Sam…?" Mark began.

"I'm fine," Sam insisted, panting with the effort to keep his voice even.

The entire group rolled their eyes at that one. "Shut up, boss," Mike said, affectionately. "Save your strength." He and Rob were practically carrying Sam as they moved off towards the American military base.

General Braddock frowned when his friend's aide came back into the room several hours later. He just wanted to be left alone for a while to react privately to what was going on. He hated to leave his emotions out where just anyone could see them.

Lieutenant Mitch Gardner flinched at General Braddock's frown. He knew how much his boss respected the other general and didn't want to do anything to upset the powerful man. But he had a situation that had to be resolved. So, he gathered his courage and spoke, "General Braddock, General Forrester, I have two officers insisting on speaking with the two of you: Colonel Mark Smith, and Lieutenant Aaron Franks." He met his boss's eyes. "They say it has to do with why General Braddock is here."

Ralph Forrester looked the question at his friend. When Braddock nodded, he told his aide, "Let them in." They waited while Gardner moved back to the door and ushered two dusty, disheveled men into the room. After a quick all-encompassing look, Braddock met his friend's eyes. They both knew these two men were not current residents of the American base. This time, it was Forrester who nodded at Braddock to take the lead.

"How can I help you, Colonel?" Braddock asked. The two men had stopped and straightened to attention.

"Sir!" Smith acknowledged. "I have a message for you, sir. And then I need to ask you to come with me."

Braddock raked him with his eyes. Smith hid the nervousness that he felt. He'd given Sam his word, and he was going to do his utmost to keep that promise.

"Very well, Colonel," Braddock snapped. "What is your important message?"

"I was told to tell you: WWDWD," Smith responded.

Braddock froze for a moment, and then his eyes shot to Smith's. "_**What**_ did you just say?" he barked.

"WWDWD," Smith said again. He forced himself not to fidget. When Braddock sought out his eyes, he met his gaze calmly.

Braddock took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He knew he needed to stay calm. "Where are we going?" he asked quietly. Shock flooded the faces of the others gathered in the room. For some reason, Braddock was going along with the unknown officer.

"To your plane, sir," Smith returned. He waited while Braddock turned to his brother.

"Robby," Bill Braddock said, "get everyone together and head for the plane. We'll meet you there." He watched his brother leave the room with Commander Holleran before he turned back to the colonel who was waiting patiently.

Smith nodded at the lieutenant who'd accompanied him.

"General Forrester, sir," Aaron Franks began, "I need to ask you to accompany us to General Braddock's plane as well, please." The lieutenant endured the intense scrutiny from his commanding officer.

"I know you, don't I?" Forrester said quietly.

"Sir, yes, sir," Franks replied.

A tense silence fell as Forrester examined him closely again. Finally, after several long moments that seemed to stretch on forever, Forrester nodded. "Very well," was all he said to Aaron. He looked at his aide and said, "No one is to know that we've gone. Stall anyone who asks to see me personally. I'll be in touch when I can."

Mitch Gardner nodded. "And if the Taliban contact gets back in touch?"

"Let me know, but do not give him any information," Forrester was stern. "I'll let you know how to proceed once I understand the situation."

"Yes, sir," Mitch replied calmly.

Mark and Aaron exchanged glances after Gardner left the room. "Can we trust him?" Mark asked, slowly.

"He's been trustworthy up to this point," Forrester said. He didn't appear offended by the two officers' caution.

Smith considered quickly. "Let's head out this way," he suggested, gesturing towards the back exit. He ignored the generals' exchange of glances and then searching looks. He was focusing on keeping his promise to Sam. As long as they were cooperating, he didn't care what the generals thought of his actions.

Smith quickly led the two generals on a circuitous route to the hangar that was sheltering General Braddock's personal jet, with Aaron Franks bringing up the rear. Smith entered the hangar cautiously, nodding in acknowledgement when he met Rob Davis just inside. He gestured him over to the other door to let the JTF2 and SRU officers inside. "The Major and the rest of the group will be here soon. Where's Mike?" he asked.

"In the plane," Rob replied as he moved to do what Mark had asked.

Mark nodded and turned to the generals. He angled his head towards the plane, saying, "You'll want to wait on board."

Bill Braddock moved eagerly towards the plane, with Ralph Forrester following more slowly. Aaron Franks continued to follow the American general. Both generals paused for a moment when the JTF2 and SRU group arrived. Braddock turned quickly back towards the plane and Robby Braddock's concerned eyes followed him for a moment before meeting the same concern in Ralph Forrester's gaze. They couldn't figure out why the other man was so willing to trust this group. Still, Ralph followed his friend and Robby led the others after them. Robby kept his eyes moving, though, examining the faces of every stranger he saw. He was silently counting them, reaching five as he entered the plane.

Bill Braddock was anxious as he hurried into the plane. He hoped he was right about what that message meant. He knew that Sam had to have been alive and aware when he gave the colonel that message for him. He also knew that Sam had to have trusted the officer and vice versa – that message wasn't anything that anyone would recognize except Sam and himself, so Smith had no way of knowing that it would work to get him to leave with him.

Bill noted but ignored the man standing at the door of the cockpit. He thought vaguely that it meant that the colonel's man was probably readying the plane for departure, not his. Pushing on, Bill turned and scanned the cabin. Seeing another stranger about two-thirds of the way back, he headed in his direction. He took five steps before he saw him.

Gasping, "Sammy," Braddock rushed to Sam's side. He could see his son was lying across several seats on his left side, his eyes closed and lines of pain carved into his face. His head was close to the windows and his feet at the aisle. Bandages swathed his chest and wrists.

Hearing the general's voice, Sam forced his eyes open; lifting them to meet his father's concerned gaze. "Dad," he greeted; his voice hoarse with pain. Looking up at the man at his side, he said, "Help me up, Mike."

"Don't…" Braddock began to order.

"Dad, I'm fine," Sam insisted, reaching his hand up to Mike's.

Mike rolled his eyes, but gently helped Sam sit up. They heard exclamations of surprise from the men who'd followed General Braddock into the plane.

Looking past them, Sam watched Mark close the door to the plane after he and Rob entered. Aaron was still behind General Forrester. "Thanks, Mark," he said quietly. "Let John know that we can take off."

Mark nodded at Pat, and Pat entered the cockpit. Mark addressed the crowd. "If everyone will please take a seat, we'll be headed back to Toronto shortly." He quietly took a seat at the front of the plane, close to the cockpit door.

* * *

A/N: And, they're off...

A/N2: Anyone with any ideas of what WWDWD means? :D


	13. Chapter 13

FF_992224_ 7/9/2014

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

A/N: Five more chapters after this one...

A/N2: So, you find out what WWDWD means...

* * *

_Mark nodded at Pat, and Pat entered the cockpit. Mark addressed the crowd. "If everyone will please take a seat, we'll be headed back to Toronto shortly." He quietly took a seat at the front of the plane, close to the cockpit door._

Surprise flashed across most of the faces, but the men were too well disciplined to let that stop them from finding seats. General Braddock took a seat to Sam's right, while Mike took the one to his left. General Forrester and Aaron took seats across the aisle, while the JTF2 Team took seats a row ahead of them. Robby Braddock, Greg Parker, Ed Lane, and Norm Holleran were in the seats just in front of Sam along with Rob Parker.

They taxied for several moments before halting. They'd been still for about ten minutes, when Pat James returned to the cabin.

"We have a slight issue," he announced. "The tower's giving John holy hell because they weren't given advance notice that the plane was going to be leaving."

Before anyone else could speak, General Braddock undid his seatbelt and replied, "I've got this." Sam winced as he saw his father move towards the cockpit with swift, angry strides.

"Someone's gonna get in troub-ble," he sing-songed.

"Ya think?" it was his uncle who replied. "They really should know better by now."

"That is one scary man," Rob Davis murmured.

"So that's where Sam gets it from," Sean Morrissey mused. Sam rolled his eyes.

John Sheppard sat grinning with amusement as he listened to General Braddock tear the tower controller a new one. In very succinct terms, the general made it clear that he not only wanted the tower to clear their departure, but to give them priority to the front of the departure line. He wasn't surprised when the general was given what he'd demanded.

He nodded in agreement when the general told the tower that they were moving to the proper runway for immediate take-off. The general nodded back once, sharply, and moved back to his seat. He nodded acknowledgement at Pat James as he passed him near the cockpit door, letting the other man head into the cockpit behind him without a backwards glance. Silence filled the cabin while they waited the additional ten minutes it took them to take off.

Once the plane was in the air and had leveled-off, Robby Braddock looked at his brother. "How did you know, Bill? What does WWDWD mean, and how on earth did you know it came from Sam?"

Bill could feel the attention of everyone in the cabin focus on him – even the strangers who'd been with Sam. He looked at his son and they both smiled, involuntarily. He sighed and looked back at his brother. "A few years back," he began, "maybe five or six, I was having a "discussion" with Sam." Smiles appeared when the others saw the general air-quote the word discussion. "He had a reputation for using… unique… methods to get himself out of bad spots," he continued, smiling a little again himself. "I was frustrated," he met Sam's laughing glance. "As usual," he added, frowning at his son.

Sam just shrugged, fighting back a full-fledged smirk.

"I asked him what the _**hell**_ he was thinking, doing what he'd done," Bill met Sam's laughing eyes again. He shook his head and smiled again, remembering. "The little shit said that when he couldn't think of anything else to do, he always thought WWDWD: What Would Dean Winchester Do?"

It was Sean Morrissey who got it first. He started laughing. "You were getting ideas from Dean Winchester, from the TV show Supernatural?"

Again, Sam shrugged. "Whatever works…" he said.

"So that was something…" General Forrester's voice trailed off.

"That was something only Dad would know," Sam said, softly.

Silence filled the cabin for a moment. Then Bill looked at Sam. "You need to rest, son," he said, softly.

"Dad, I'm f…." Sam began.

"Don't you dare use that f-word!" Bill snapped, interrupting. He heard his brother start laughing.

"Fine _**is**_ a four-letter word," Sean Morrissey mused, a grin on his face. Several of the others laughed in response.

Sam rolled his eyes. But he could feel the pain and exhaustion pulling at him. "I'll tell you what," he suggested to his father. "I'll rest, if you rest." He eyed him closely. "You look like crap,"

Everyone winced and waited for the explosion. They were surprised when Bill just muttered, "I _**hate**_ this SRU job. Everything's a negotiation. I liked it better when he just followed orders like a good soldier." Laughter filled the cabin as he snapped back at his son, "I'm fine!"

Sam just raised his eyebrow at him, smirking.

Bill groaned. "What am I saying?" he muttered again. "The boy has _**never **_just followed orders." He could feel Sam's amused eyes on him, just waiting. "Ok, you win," he snapped again. "I'll rest if you rest."

Sam nodded, pain flashing across his face for a moment. "Help me lie down?" he asked; his voice hoarse. He held out a hand to Mike. The two men eased him down on his left side again. The general took the seat next to Sam's head, and gently began running his hand through his son's hair.

When Sam looked at him expectantly, he muttered again, "Oh, for the love of…" he let his voice trail off as he reclined his seat. Meeting Sam's eyes again, he snapped, "Happy?"

Sam just smiled at him, exhaustion pulling his eyes closed as he settled in to rest. Silence filled the cabin as the general watched his son for a moment. He ran his hand through his son's blond hair several more times before exhaustion stilled his hand and his eyes closed as well.

After exchanging amused glances, the rest of the group settled in for the long flight. Some of them opted to close their eyes and rest, while others pulled out books and read quietly. Mike Francis moved across the aisle and took a seat next to General Forrester and Aaron Franks.

Several hours later, Robby Braddock woke to hushed voices.

"Who's flying the plane?" the man across the aisle who'd been introduced as Aaron Franks demanded in a hushed whisper.

He could feel the man standing in the aisle roll his eyes, "It's called auto-pilot, you moron." Robby cracked his eyes open and saw the tall, slim brunette standing next to him take a long look at his nephew. "I needed a bathroom break and I wanted to see how the boss was doing."

"He's in pain," it was Mike who responded. He was crouched next to Sam and was quietly checking his vitals. "His pulse and respiration are good, but I'll be glad to get him to a hospital."

"I gave him my word that I'd do whatever necessary to get him home," the man Robby knew as Mark Smith came up behind the pilot and joined the conversation. He ignored the interested glances that shot to his face at that statement.

"I know," Mike breathed quietly. "And I'm right there with you. But he's been through so much, that I just want him to have a little peace." He looked up at Mark with a sad grin, "And some good drugs." No one spoke for a few moments.

The silence was broken when Sam cried out in his sleep. Concerned looks shot to the injured officer as he cried out, "No," and jerked into a sitting position. His left hand came up and brushed his left temple, as if moving something away. A moan of pain followed as Sam became aware of the consequences of moving his injured body that quickly. Closing his eyes, and grabbing at the armrests to keep himself upright, he panted through the pain for a moment.

Sam smiled tiredly when he opened his eyes to all the concerned looks. He quietly accepted the water bottle that Mike held out to him, ignoring the faint trembling of his hands as he took a quick drink.

"It's funny," Sam mused quietly. He knew they'd all seen what he'd done when he woke from his nightmare. "I kinda got used to it." He looked up to see the shock on the faces that were watching him with concern. "Ali enjoyed drawing it out – taking a long time before pulling the trigger. It amused me when my mind started wandering while I was waiting." He shrugged at the shock that statement produced, and then winced at the resulting pain. "It's not like I could do anything about it. I couldn't stop him. And I found it much more comforting to think about my family and friends, then to continuously wonder if these would be the last moments of my life." That produced a deep silence. Sam felt a hand gently squeeze his left shoulder and he turned to smile quietly at his father.

After taking another drink, Sam leaned back in his seat, hissing as his injured back made contact with the padded surface. Bill could see that he didn't want to try lying down again, so he just moved closer to his son, catching and squeezing his hand comfortingly before releasing it and turning to the man who still stood in the aisle, watching his son.

"Sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier," he rumbled, holding his hand out to the pilot. "Bill Braddock."

The pilot smiled back, shaking his hand. "John Sheppard, Major, US Air Force," he replied. He looked back at Sam. "You doing ok, boss?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sam smiled tiredly. He grinned as the others winced, waiting for the "I'm fine," to come from his lips. He deliberately held it back, grinning again at their concerned glares. "Where are we?"

"About two-thirds of the way," Sheppard replied. "Another four-five hours or so and we'll be there." He looked at Bill Braddock. "Speaking of arriving, do you have any good ideas about where we want to land?"

Bill nodded. "I have a private hangar at Pearson International," he said.

"Good," Sheppard replied. He looked around the cabin for a moment. "Anyone want to make sure the welcome wagon is there to meet us?"

"I've got that," Commander Holleran replied. He stood and held his hand out to the pilot, "Norm Holleran, Toronto Police Strategic Response Unit Commander," he offered, shaking the pilot's hand. He followed the other man back to the cockpit, quietly talking about arrival times and locations.

Returning to the cabin, Norm stopped and waited for Robby Braddock to meet him. They spoke in quiet tones as Robby gave Norm the information about his brother's private hangar. Norm returned to his seat and quickly texted the information to Spike Scarlatti, knowing he would gather the appropriate welcoming committee. When Spike asked about Sam's condition, Holleran just asked him to make sure that medic Steve Morgan was there, as well. After all, Holleran didn't know Sam's exact condition. He'd seen the video of the beating, and he could see Sam's bruises, and the weakness and pain, but he didn't really have a frame of reference as to when the beating had occurred.

Several hours later all eyes focused on Sam when the injured officer cried out again. Norm turned around to see Bill Braddock speaking softly to his son, who was moving restlessly, his head shaking back and forth as he cried out in his sleep. Sam had been drifting in-and-out of sleep, but this was the first time he'd cried out since he'd awoken earlier and sat up. Sam cried out once more, and then screamed. He jerked awake, freezing his father as he bent over him, trying to use his words to ground him back in the waking world.

Sam didn't even bother to try to claim he was fine. He just reached out for his father's hand, squeezing it and using that contact to help him push the nightmare back from his consciousness. Looking up, he saw Pat James standing in the aisle, his eyes reflecting anger and pain as he watched Sam do his best to recover from a memory of one of Ali's beatings.

When he saw Sam watching him, Pat blanked the expression in his eyes, stepping forward and offering something to the other man. "Hey, boss," he said softly. "I thought you'd need this back." He gently handed off the cell phone that had the app that had located Sam's teammates.

"Thanks," was Sam's only response, his voice hoarse and rough. Meeting his eyes, Pat could see that the thanks extended beyond just returning the phone. Nodding once in acknowledgement, Pat headed back to the cockpit, knowing Sheppard would be worried after hearing Sam's scream.

Looking down at the phone, Sam got a mischievous look on his face. He cleared his throat as he quickly dialed a number from memory.

* * *

A/N: So, did anyone actually guess what WWDWD meant? And who is Sam calling?


	14. Chapter 14

FF_992224_ 7/13/2014

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

A/N: Four more chapters after this one...

A/N2: So, you find out who he calls...

* * *

_Looking down at the phone, Sam got a mischievous look on his face. He cleared his throat as he quickly dialed a number from memory._

"Sam…" Bill Braddock began to ask. He let his voice trail off when his son just held up one finger indicating that he wanted him to wait. His gaze sharpened as he saw Sam put the phone on speaker. Sam had everyone in the cabin's attention as the ringing phone could be heard throughout the plane.

A hesitant voice finally answered with," Hello?"

"Spike," Sam greeted cheerfully.

"Sam?" Spike gasped in shock.

"Yeah, man," Sam replied, "I thought you might want to know that your app worked."

There was silence for several long moments before Spike replied. "Do you still have it?"

"The phone?" Sam clarified. "Yeah that's what I'm calling you on."

Again there were several moments of silence. "Keep it safe," Spike admonished his teammate.

"I will," Sam promised.

"Sam…?" Spike began.

"I'll see you in about three hours, Spike," Sam cut him off, not wanting to get into any discussion of what had happened or how he was doing.

"Stay safe," Spike ordered, his voice unsteady.

"Promise," Sam replied softly. He ended the call and stared at the phone for a moment, before handing it to his father. He gestured to Greg Parker, and Bill passed the phone on as indicated.

Sam leaned his head back against the seat as pain and weariness swept over him. But a soft sigh was all he let pass his lips. He looked up when Mike Francis slipped into the seat next to him, a bottle of water and package of crackers in his hand. Sam didn't really want to eat anything, but he knew it was important to keep his strength up. So he accepted both the water and crackers, eating slowly to make sure they didn't make a return appearance.

Once he was finished with the crackers, Sam leaned back against the seat again, hissing as his torn back made contact. His father reached out, gently helping him turn his body just a little, so his back wasn't meeting the seat straight on. That alleviated some of the pain, but Sam knew he was just going to have to endure the rest until he'd given his report. It was important that the military officers understood the nature of Malik's offer and intentions. He let his eyes slide closed again as the weariness swept over him again, knowing that there were still several hours before they landed.

Sam was restless the rest of the trip, dozing lightly, but waking with cries of pain more than once. He was glad that the trip was over when Pat came out of the cockpit to let them all know that they were getting ready to land. It wasn't long before they were on the ground.

Norm Holleran's phone rang and he spoke quietly for a moment. He looked back at Sam and his father. "Steve Morgan is ready to come up and get you, as soon as we arrive at the hangar."

"No," Sam said forcefully.

"Sam…" Bill Braddock began.

"No," Sam insisted. "I didn't have a choice when I was forced on that plane to Afghanistan. And I didn't have a choice when I was pulled and pushed off. This… This is _**my**_ choice. He can meet me at the bottom of the steps." Silence filled the cabin for a moment.

"Ok," Bill accepted quietly, his voice a little rough. He exchanged a look with Norm Holleran.

Norm quickly informed the welcoming committee of the change in plans.

Once the plane had reached the hangar and stopped, Pat and John headed towards where Sam still sat. The other four former POWs had congregated near the door, Rob helping Mark open it and double-check the stairs that led down to the pavement.

The JTF2 and SRU officers parted for Pat and John. It was John who spoke, as they approached Sam, "Hey, boss." He waited until Sam acknowledged him. "It's our turn," was all he said.

The others saw Sam's mouth twist into a smile, but he only nodded at the two officers. They quickly moved to his sides, crouching down so Sam could put his arms over their shoulders. They slid their inside arms around Sam's waist, taking care to avoid the areas covered by the bandages. The two officers slowly straightened up, helping Sam up with them. They slowed even more when Sam moaned in pain.

"I'm fine," he gasped out, knowing the pain wasn't going away.

It was Sheppard who responded. "You know, boss," he said, smirking, "that would be a little more convincing if you weren't moaning in pain when you said it."

Sam glared at him.

"I'm just sayin'…" Sheppard wasn't cowed by the continued glare. He looked across Sam to Pat. "Ready?" he asked. When the other man nodded, they continued to help Sam to his feet.

"He's got a point," Bill pointed out when Sam was fully upright and had regained his breath from the pain of the movement.

Sam just frowned at and then ignored his father; he was concentrating on moving through the plane without the moans that had accompanied the process of getting him to his feet. Bill smiled sadly at Sam's back and then followed behind. He blinked in surprise when he reached the top of the stairs behind his son. The four other officers who'd brought Sam to the American base were at the foot of the steps, two on either side. As Bill watched, they snapped to attention and saluted.

Silence fell when the welcoming committee recognized that something significant was going on. Sam started down the stairs, Sheppard in front, and Pat behind him to make sure he didn't fall. When Sheppard reached the foot of the stairs, he stayed there, the other four having left a short gap. He steadied Sam as he made it to the pavement, waiting until Pat was down. Both officers made sure that Sam was steady on his feet before stepping back and saluting with the rest of their comrades. Sam said something too low for anyone else to hear, but it didn't change the attitude of the officers honoring him. He unsteadily made his way through the short line of officers.

When he reached Steve Morgan, waiting at the end with the stretcher, Mark and Mike, the two officers nearest, broke their salute and gently helped him up onto the stretcher and down onto his left side.

Steve heard Sam whisper, "Thanks for keeping your promise," to one of the officers.

He responded by laying a hand on Sam's right shoulder and saying, softly, "It was an honor and a privilege." Then he looked up at Steve and nodded to indicate that Sam was ready to go.

Mark also nodded in respect to Jules as she rushed to Sam's side. "Ma'am," was all he said, but he quickly moved out of her way.

Steve got the stretcher moving and the group headed over the where the ambulance was waiting to take Sam to the hospital. It had been agreed by all parties that Sam would be taken to St. Simons Hospital in Toronto. Quickly loading Sam into the ambulance, Steve waited for Jules to join him before moving inside himself. Spike closed the doors, and the ambulance made its way from the hangar to the hospital.

Mark and Mike rejoined the other four officers waiting at the foot of the steps, wondering what would happen next. They were approached by Spike Scarlatti and Ed Lane.

"Colonel," Spike addressed the group because he had no idea which of the officers was the colonel, "Generals Braddock and Forrester have asked that you and Major Sheppard join them, Major Braddock and Commander Holleran in the limo." He gestured at the Hummer limo that was parked near three black SUVs.

Mark nodded at the others, indicating that he wanted them to cooperate with the arrangements that had been made for them, before heading to the limo with Sheppard.

Spike continued, "If two of you will head over to the first SUV with Ed and the boss, the other two can take your pick of the other SUVs."

It was Pat James who asked, "And you are?"

"Sorry," Spike looked contrite. "I'm Constable Michelangelo Scarlatti, but my friends call me Spike."

"And which SUV is yours?" Pat asked.

"I've got the end one," Spike said.

Pat looked around at the others. "Do you mind?" When they shook their heads, Pat headed for the last SUV in line.

Spike looked at Ed for an explanation, but the other officer just shrugged. He didn't know why the man wanted to ride with Spike, but he was willing to go with the flow. The others split up with Mike and Aaron heading to the first SUV to ride with Ed and Greg, while Rob ended up in the middle SUV with Raf Rousseau. The JTF2 team split into the last two SUVs with Bryan Jamison and Pete Mills riding with Rob Parker and Raf Rousseau, and Sean Morrissey and Justin Carlson riding with Spike and Pat. The rest of the JTF2 team as well as the leadership of SRU Team Two were waiting at the hospital.

Inside the ambulance, Steve had started an IV and began checking Sam's vitals. He could see that the other man was in a lot of pain, and wanted to get approval to administer pain medication before Sam even got to the hospital. He was shocked when Sam refused the medication. Steve looked at Jules, at a loss as to why the other man was refusing the pain relief.

Jules was holding Sam's hand and after Steve's look, she silently met Sam's eyes. Seeing the grim determination there, she knew that this was not something that Sam would compromise on. She quickly shook her head at Steve, silently telling him to let it go. Steve didn't understand why the other man was refusing the medication, but he did know that if Jules couldn't get him to accept it, no one could. So he let it go. Sam squeezed Jules's hand in gratitude, knowing if she hadn't supported him, Steve would have continued to insist all the way to the hospital. Sam didn't know if he had the strength to fight that.

It wasn't long before they were in the Emergency Room, Steve passing on all the relevant medical information to the doctor there. Sam saw her frown as Steve said something softly. He had an idea he knew what it was.

The doctor came up to the stretcher he was lying on and said, "Constable Braddock."

Recognizing the Emergency Room Head, Sam replied, "Dr. Redfield."

The frown was still on her face when she continued, "Steve tells me you've refused pain medication." She watched Sam nod. "Care to tell me why?"

"I need to report," Sam said softly. He was holding back the sounds of his pain. "I have important information that must get to the right people. It's my duty."

"And you couldn't do that on the way?" Dr. Redfield asked.

"Not everyone was there," Sam insisted. "And I can't…" He turned his head away for a moment. "I can't do it twice," he finished.

Dr. Redfield saw the pain in his eyes before he turned his head away. She knew how strong the man in front of her was, so if he said he couldn't do it twice, he was probably right. She laid a gentle hand on his right shoulder. "Ok, then. We'll get you started on broad strain antibiotics, and I want you to take a couple over-the-counter pain capsules." She gave Sam a stern look. "That'll take the edge off, without compromising your focus or control." She waited while Sam nodded again. "And I'm going to be there while you're making your statement. I will be monitoring your condition and if I feel it warrants it, I'll stop the proceedings to care for your health." She gave Sam a hard look. "It will be at _**my**_ discretion, do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sam replied. "But I need you to understand the importance of this information. I need you to understand that it's vital for the security of our country." He met the doctor's gaze with a stern, determined one and didn't back down.

"Very well," Dr. Redfield said, "I think we understand each other."

* * *

A/N: And we'll hear a little more from Sam's perspective as he tells his story...


	15. Chapter 15

FF_992224_ 7/16/2014

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

A/N: Three more chapters after this one...

A/N2: Sam tells his story...

* * *

"_Very well," Dr. Redfield said, "I think we understand each other."_

While they were speaking, the nurse had been connecting another bag of fluids to the IV line in Sam's right hand, hanging the bag with the IV fluids that Steve had started in the ambulance. Dr. Redfield nodded at the nurse and they began pushing the stretcher Sam was on towards the private waiting room that had been set up for his friends and family.

When they arrived, Dr. Redfield had the nurse stay in the corridor with Sam for a few moments while she spoke to the people inside. She kept the door open a crack, though, so Sam and Jules could hear what was going on. Looking around the room the doctor saw several distinct groups: There was the group of eight familiarly-clad SRU officers, a group of eight Canadian military officers, plus one officer that wasn't Canadian but was definitely military, three civilian females, and another group of six who looked military, but whose clothing lacked any formal military designations. It was one of the Canadian military officers, a general, who stepped towards her and spoke.

"How is Sam doing, doctor?" Bill Braddock asked quietly.

"He's stable," Dr. Redfield replied, "but we have some issues we need to discuss. I'm Dr. Redfield and I've been caring for Constable Braddock." She gestured at the groups to find seats. Once everyone was seated, she continued. "First of all, Constable Braddock is refusing treatment and pain medication at this time." She waited calmly while the uproar that followed settled down.

"Why?" Braddock demanded.

"He is insisting that he needs to report – that it's a matter of national security – before any of his injuries are treated," was the reply.

"Why didn't he talk to us on the plane?" Robby Braddock asked.

"I asked him that," Dr. Redfield smiled. "Constable Braddock said that not everyone was present who needed to hear the report, and that he didn't feel that he could go through it twice." She looked around the room. "With that said, does anyone have a way to record the report?"

"Yes, ma'am," Spike Scarlatti answered, pulling his ever-present computer from his bag. Setting it on a nearby table, he quickly began getting it ready to record video.

"And my son?" Bill Braddock asked.

"He was administered IV fluids in the ambulance, and I've started him on a regimen of aggressive antibiotics to hopefully knock out any infections before they even get started," Redfield replied. "I also insisted that he take an extra-strength dose of over-the-counter pain medication." She looked around the room. "However, that really isn't doing much for the level of his pain. So, I'm going to ask you to hold all your questions until the end of the Constable's report, with the understanding that unless they're critical to resolving any national security breaches, they may be put off until the Constable has had a chance to rest."

"Agreed," General Braddock accepted for the entire room.

Dr. Redfield moved to the door and opened it, helping the nurse pull Sam into the room. "One more thing," she said as she situated Sam's stretcher, "I'll be here monitoring the Constable's condition. If I feel that it is deteriorating, I'll end the interview until it improves to my satisfaction." She looked at Sam, seriously. "Is that understood?"

The doctor didn't look away from Sam as several people in the room echoed, "Understood." She waited patiently, meeting Sam's determined gaze until he gave in to the insistence in her gaze and the pressure of Jules' hand on his arm. "Understood," he said, resignation in his tone.

Dr. Redfield took the cup from the nurse, and handed it to Sam, commanding him to, "Drink," in a stern tone.

Sam took the drink and handed the cup off to Jules. He looked around the room, his gaze settling on the three civilian women. They quickly moved to his bedside.

His mother spoke, "Sam, I don't think you want us here for this, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to be here either. Natalie, Edie, and I will go pick up some of your things, and then go to lunch. Your father can let us know when you're ready for visitors again." She leaned down and gently kissed his right cheek. Giving his hand a quick squeeze, she stepped back so Natalie and Edith Holleran could do the same. The waiting room stayed quiet while the three women gathered their things and left.

Once they were gone, Sam looked to the six military officers who were not part of his Canadian teams.

Mark Smith spoke up, "Sergeant Parker and Constable Lane have given us a brief overview of the events leading up to the time that Ali Adar was able to take you into his custody."

Sam nodded. He looked down at his hands as he began, "We were all at a meeting where I'd just found out that Corporal Jamison's supposed death was a ploy to get both him and myself out of Afghanistan without Ali realizing that I was the one they referred to as the Ghost." Sam took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "The meeting broke up when my father had to return to base to take care of an incident. He took Corporal Jamison with him. About ten minutes later, Team One was called out on a bomb call. Constable Scarlatti went with them. It was about twenty minutes later that I got the call."

Sam fell silent for a moment, remembering the emotions that had flooded him when he realized what his father's aide was telling him. Pushing back the remembered fear, Sam continued, "My father's aide, Corporal Robert Jackson, called and said that my father and Corporal Jamison had been attacked on base. He said that they were in bad shape and they didn't know if they would survive. Commander Holleran sent me off with Constables Geoff Anderson, Pete Wilson, Alex Haille, and Corporal Frank Mueller. We knew the potential was there for this to be a trap, but didn't realize the how far Ali would go to get his hands on me."

"We were checking in with the Commander every ten minutes. It was right after the second check-in that it happened. I saw a flash of light out of corner of my right eye. And then the car two ahead of us exploded. There wasn't enough time for Alex to react. We crashed into the car in front of us, and the car behind us couldn't stop, either. I hit my head on the dash by the rear window, but was only dazed for a moment. When my head cleared, I looked towards where I'd seen the flash. I saw Ali with at several other men on the side of the road. I knew that if I stayed where I was, we would probably all die."

Sam paused for a brief moment. "So I covered Pete with my jacket, and kicked the window out. I told him to call for backup and I crawled out of the vehicle." Sam closed his eyes for a moment, remembering. "I made sure Ali saw me. I thought that maybe that way… that way the guys in the vehicle had a chance." Sam waited for the lecture that he thought for sure would be coming… but nothing did. Looking up, he met his father's eyes and saw just pain and pride in them. He twisted his lips into a sad smile in return, and continued. "I jumped over the concrete barrier and dodged through traffic to make it over to the woods."

This time he was interrupted by his father's throat clearing. Sam looked up into his father's frown.

"Really?" he asked. "I mean, really?" He stared hard at his father. "You don't object to me antagonizing a homicidal maniac that came thousands of miles to kill me, but you have a problem with me dodging a couple of cars to get away from him?." Sam shook his head in disbelief, "I mean, really?"

"Well, when you put it that way," his father grumbled.

"Is there any other way to put it?" Sam asked. He shook his head again. After taking a brief pause to compose himself again, he continued, "I slowed down when I got into the woods, I knew there were too many hazards there to continue running all out. I was trying to concentrate on where I was going and my surroundings, but between the aches from the accident and still worrying about whether my father and Corporal Jamison were ok, I got distracted. A couple minutes in, I tripped over a root and twisted my right ankle." Sam sighed. "I knew then that it was going to be much harder to evade Ali and his men. I listened for a moment and heard them coming, much closer than I expected."

"So, I looked for rocky ground to cover my tracks. And I searched for some way to conceal myself from my pursuers. Not too far away I found a tree that I could reach from some rocks. I carefully made my way into the tree, doing my best to avoid disturbing the lower branches. I froze when I heard Ali's men below me, remaining still until I was sure they were gone. Except… one of them stopped to, uh… relieve himself… right underneath me." Sam looked up and saw the grins. He let a rueful smile cross his face. "There was a yell from the men who'd already gone by, asking where Sanders was. The guy below me yelled that he'd catch up, and then he muttered, 'It's not like he's gonna jump out of this tree and shoot me.'" Sam looked down at his hands before admitting, "And then he looked up."

Sean Morrissey stared at him open-mouthed for a second before spluttering, "You didn't…"

Sam frowned. "Of course not," he said. "I'm not an idiot. I shot him, and _**then**_ I got out of the tree." There was complete silence for a moment. No one wanted to laugh – after all, that was the end of a life – even if it was a low-life terrorist life. On the other hand, the scene had the taste of the ridiculous. Finally, Sam cleared his throat and continued, "I knew the others heard the gun shot and I tried to move as quickly as possible. But my ankle was slowing me down. Still, I knew that every minute I stayed ahead of Ali and his men gave my backup another minute to get there."

"It wasn't long after that when I realized that Ali's men had surrounded me. I was pretty confident that they hadn't realized it yet, though. So I figured my best option was to head towards the one positioned closest to the road. If I could get out of there before Ali's men figured out where I was…" Sam sighed. "I was almost to my target when my right ankle gave out on me. I caught myself on a tree. I didn't make much noise, but it was enough to alert my target that I was there. I was able to keep him from calling out for backup, but I couldn't stop his finger on the trigger. His shots went into the ground but they still did damage. I knocked him out with the butt of his own weapon. It wasn't until then that I realized that Ali's men were two deep. I aimed at the next target, but was knocked down before I could do more than hit him in the shoulder. It didn't take long for them to have me down on my knees, my hands restrained behind my back." Sam closed his eyes for a moment.

"That's when Ali showed up. He was trying to get a reaction from me when he pulled out the cloth he'd used to gag me the last two times he'd held me prisoner." Sam's voice got hoarse. "It was awful: stinky, dirty, foul. They forced it into my mouth and tied another rag around it to keep it in. It took me a couple minutes to control my reactions, and Ali enjoyed every second of it." Sam took a deep breath and released it, pushing away the remembered emotions.

He continued, calmly, "When Ali was sure I was not going to react anymore, he gestured to some people waiting outside my line-of-sight. He said that even though we were pressed for time, he thought I ought to meet the man responsible for our reunion." Sam sighed and looked at his father. "I was not prepared when I saw Corporal Robert Jackson, my father's aide." Sam sighed again. "It made me wonder… wonder whether something had happened to my father and Corporal Jamison at all."

Sam paused and gestured towards the cup Jules was holding. After getting a drink, he continued. "I didn't have much time to contemplate that thought, though because Ali told me I was going to see Corporal Jackson get his well-deserved reward." Sam paused and the lines of weariness deepened on his face. "The corporal was shocked when two men grabbed his arms and restrained them behind his back. He opened his mouth to object, but a gag was shoved in and anything he might have said was unintelligible. They forced him to his knees and tied a blindfold over his eyes. Ali smirked at me but didn't hesitate when he put the revolver to the corporal's left temple and pulled the trigger."

Sam stared silently at his hands for a moment. "Then Ali moved back to my side and ground the revolver against my left temple. I figured that was it… It was over…" Sam paused for a moment, and then sighed. "But all that happened was that he took the revolver away again and they put a blindfold on. Again I figured I'd die right there." Once again Sam fell silent, remembering. "But I was just pulled to my feet and dragged along with them to a car. They forced me into the trunk and took off."

* * *

A/N: I hope this isn't repetitive, but I like to see the reactions of the others to what happened...


	16. Chapter 16

FF_992224_ 7/20/2014

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

A/N: Two more chapters after this one...

A/N2: Sam continues his story...

* * *

_Once again Sam fell silent, remembering. "But I was just pulled to my feet and dragged along with them to a car. They forced me into the trunk and took off."_

"We drove for almost forty-five minutes, and I was glad to get out of there. I had no way to keep myself from being thrown around with all the turns and bumps. I was dragged into a building and down a long hall to some kind of room. I was put into a chair and I heard Ali tell someone to 'string him up'." Sam silently reached for Jules' hand. It was going to get harder from here on out.

"After some unidentified sounds, they moved my hands so they were bound in front of me. They used a rope they threaded through my hands to pull me up and nearly off my feet. I was somewhat surprised that they started hitting me with their fists. They beat me until I couldn't stand on my own." Sam squeezed Jules' hand. "Then they let me down. I was only given a few seconds to recover before they moved my hands back behind my back and forced me to my knees." Sam shuddered, but he didn't let his expression change. "Ali ground the gun against my head for several seconds before he pulled the trigger." Sam's voice got even hoarser. "After the fifth time, I figured that was it was over…" He bowed his head to hide the remembered despair that filled his eyes. He was shaking slightly from the remembered fear and desperation that had filled him at that moment. Jules silently squeezed his hand and put her other hand on his shoulder. After squeezing softly, she ran it up into his hair, gently ruffling and then smoothing the blond strands at the back of his neck. Sam closed his eyes and absorbed the comfort of her touch.

Sam finally continued. "But Ali wasn't finished yet. I heard him open the cylinder and spin it, before closing it and grinding it against my head again. He was getting ready to spin it a sixth time when one of his men came in and announced that the plane was ready. I thought…" Sam's voice broke, but he continued anyway, "I thought this time it really was it." He shuddered. His voice sank to a hoarse whisper as he said, "But Ali just said that it was time to put a bullet in the gun."

Shocked silence filled the room, rage and pain filling most eyes for what Ali had put Sam through. And this was just the beginning. Still, they all respected the doctor's request and nothing was said.

Sam held tightly to Jules and began again. "I heard him load a bullet into a chamber, and spin the cylinder. He closed it and put the gun to my head again. I flinched when he pulled the trigger, and waited for him to do it again. But Ali said that this meant that Allah approved of his plan, and told his men to take me to the plane. I tried to struggle… I tried. I'd promised myself that I'd never go back there again. I'd lost too much in that country. And I almost lost myself. But I didn't have a choice. They dragged me up the steps and into the plane. They forced me to my knees and tied my wrists to some armrests. That's when Ali had them go back into the airport to remove any trace that they'd been there. After most everyone was gone, Ali told someone that they could begin."

Sam closed his eyes and did his best to prepare himself to describe the torture. A few moments passed before he opened his eyes and continued. "There were two of them. They had whips… whips with metal tips on the end of the lash… After a while they stopped… They stopped and cut my wrists free… But then they twisted me around and fastened me to the armrests again. I don't know why I was surprised when they started up with the whips again… They finally stopped again when the rest of Ali's men returned to the plane."

Sam refused to look at anyone in the room. His hand was trembling in Jules' and he wasn't sure he wanted to go on. Heck, he wasn't sure if he _**could**_ go on. But Jules seemed to understand what he needed. She squeezed his hand tightly, and offered him the cup of water with her free hand. After taking a slow drink, Sam gave it back. Still not looking at anyone, he continued his story. "Ali asked if everything had been taken care of. His man Mohammad said that they couldn't find the man who owned the airport, and wanted to know if they should continue looking. Ali said that they didn't have the time and told them to take off." Sam swallowed heavily. "And then he put the gun to my head again…"

"When I heard that click, I couldn't take it anymore and I let myself pass out." Sam was staring down at his hand that was clasped tightly in Jules'. He knew that without her, he'd be falling apart. He didn't look up to see the grim determination, barely restrained rage, and immense pride that filled the faces of his audience.

"I woke up to water in my face. I could feel that we were moving and knew the plane was in the air. Ali played his sick game of Russian Roulette for a while before starting the beatings again. This time the whip had multiple strands that were knotted in several places along their length."

Dr. Redfield looked around the room as Sam paused. She could see by the looks on the other faces that no one wanted to hear these details. Looking back at Sam, she met his gaze. The way he met her look brought instant understanding. Sam wasn't giving this level of detail for the others in the room – he was doing it for her. So she would understand what kind of injuries he had sustained and know how to treat them. She nodded once in understanding.

Sam continued, "After a while, they turned me around again and used the whip on my back. I didn't lose consciousness. They stopped when Ali told them to. He spoke to one of his men, who brought me bread and water. That surprised me. I didn't understand. I thought Ali wanted me dead, but the food seemed to imply that he wanted me to live – at least for a while." Sam paused and took a drink. "After the food, Ali played his game of Russian Roulette again, going through the game twice. And then they beat me again – this time with a whip that had diamond dust imbedded in the lash." Sam shuddered, remembering the horrible pain. He looked up to see expressions of smoldering rage, guilt, and horror on the faces around the room. "That's pretty much how the entire flight went: beatings with whips interspersed with Ali's Russian Roulette. I was glad when the plane landed and they ignored me for a while."

Sam took a breath and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He was getting tired, but he knew he wasn't finished yet. "When they finally untied me and dragged me to my feet, I couldn't stand. So, two of them dragged me off of the plane and threw me into the back of a truck. At least four men got in after me. We spent the next eight hours in that truck. They'd hit or kick at me when they got bored. And when we stopped – they'd have a contest with cigarettes to see who could get me to scream." Sam felt Jules' hand tighten on his, so he squeezed back, reassuringly.

"When the trucks stopped, I was taken into a building and strung up by my hands. They used the whips again, and then Ali played his game. Finally, after all that, I was given more bread and water and let down to rest for a few hours before they woke me up and it started all over again. Three more days passed just like that."

"On the fourth day, we stopped after only four hours in the truck. When they dragged me inside, I knew something was different. I wasn't in a building – I was in a cave or a tunnel. I tried to fight – I knew what the tunnels meant. Once in the tunnels, the likelihood of me being rescued dropped to almost nothing. But I was weak from the torture and the rough treatment. By the time I could try again, it was too late. We were too far in and surrounded by Taliban. I could hear them speaking in Pashtu all around us."

"We continued through the tunnels for about twenty minutes before we were stopped and Ali got into an argument with someone. They were speaking in Pashtu. I heard him say that he needed to see to see their leader because he had a present for him. Finally he got the other man to agree. Then I heard some noises I couldn't identify. Finally I realized that the leader's men were disarming Ali's men. I knew that wasn't necessarily good for me, though. Once all of Ali's men were disarmed, we were moving again, the men holding on to me forcing me right behind Ali. And then Ali was speaking to their leader, explaining that he'd brought him the Ghost so the leader could punish him as fit for such a great enemy of their people. That all he wanted in return was to be reinstated to fight alongside his brothers."

Sam took a deep breath. He could feel his weariness weighing him down. But he didn't let that stop him. "And then I heard the leader ask what was wrong with him, as I was being pushed to my knees in front of Ali. The leader told them to remove the blindfold, and I was looking at Malik Farad Al-Hamad. I could tell that he was speaking English because he wanted me to know what was going on."

Sam looked up and met his father's gaze. His look was serious, anxious that they understood that here was the important part. He turned and met General Forrester's gaze as well. When he felt he'd made his point, he continued. "Malik gestured to the area in front of me and they dragged Ali to the spot he'd indicated and forced him to his knees. When he opened his mouth to object, they forced a gag into his mouth, even as they bound his hands behind him. Malik told him that he was an idiot; that they'd already been contacted by both the Canadians and the Americans threatening reprisals for my kidnapping. He asked if Ali really thought this was what their people needed; that the Americans were getting ready to leave their country and now no one knew what they'd do. He said that Ali's actions had put their people in more danger than anything else that'd happened in the last five years."

"Ali tried to speak and Malik backhanded him. He told him there wasn't anything he could say that Malik wanted to hear. And then he spoke to me. He said that he thought I might enjoy seeing my kidnapper get what he deserves. And then he took the revolver from one of his men, put it to Ali's left temple and pulled the trigger." Sam took a deep breath. "I could tell he knew…" he said, softly. "He knew that was Ali's game…" Sam pulled his knees towards his chest, resting his left elbow on one knee as he used his left hand to shield his face. It took him a couple tries to swallow the lump in his throat, fighting his emotions back at the same time.

After a few moments, he uncovered his face and was able to continue. "Malik spoke to Ali's men: telling them that they could swear allegiance to him, or choose to remain loyal to Ali and suffer his fate." Sam's face twisted into some semblance of a smile. "Surprisingly they all chose to swear allegiance to Malik," he said, the sarcasm plain in his tone. "As they were leaving, Malik pulled one of his men aside and told him to put them to work, but keep them together. He said that if any one of them betrayed them, they would all suffer the same fate." Sam let his audience consider that for a moment.

* * *

A/N: One more chapter and then an epilogue of sorts.


	17. Chapter 17

FF_992224_ 7/23/2014

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

A/N: Just the epilogue left...

A/N2: Sam continues his story...

* * *

"_As they were leaving, Malik pulled one of his men aside and told him to put them to work, but keep them together. He said that if any one of them betrayed them, they would all suffer the same fate." Sam let his audience consider that for a moment._

He took another calming breath. It was going to be hard for the next several minutes: hard for him to recount what had happened, and hard for his audience to hear it. But it had to be done. In some respects, this was the most important part of his story. So he took a final calming breath and began again. "Malik told them to bind my hands in front of me. One of his men asked what he was going to do with me. Malik told him he would return me to my people. They were speaking in Pashtu and I knew I needed every advantage, so I didn't let on that I understood what they were saying. His man asked if giving me back wouldn't cause more problems with what I could report. And Malik said…" Sam's voice broke, but he forced himself to try again. "Malik said, 'I did not say I would return him to his people while he still lives.'" He bowed his head, reliving the horror and fear that statement had provoked. And yet he hadn't broken then. He'd kept his composure – didn't let Malik know he'd understood.

Shocked silence had filled the room after Sam made that startling statement. The shock was gradually transforming into anger and rage. But still no one broke the silence until Sam continued. "I didn't dare let Malik know that I understood what he'd said. So I kept my expression blank as they tied my wrists above my head to a ring that was attached to the wall. And then Malik directed his men in the beatings: first fists, then switches, and finally whips." Sam tried to take a cleansing breath, but it caught in his throat, remembered pain and fear holding it there for a moment. Tears flooded his eyes as his strength wavered for a moment.

"Sam?" Jules asked, concern lacing her voice. Sam just squeezed her hand and shook his head, silently asking for a moment to compose himself again. Finally, after he was more composed, he was able to begin again. "After using the whips for a while, they left me hanging there while they worked on something. I couldn't tell what it was, until Malik moved to my side and raised my head into the light of the camera. He held me there with his hand in my hair for a few moments before releasing me and moving back so his men could resume beating me again. They didn't stop this time until they thought I was unconscious."

Sam squeezed Jules' hand again, waiting until she met his eyes. He silently asked her to stay strong, and she took a deep breath, knowing that this would be hard to hear. "Malik told his men that I was dying. He told them to take me to the other prisoners because they had to make it look like they'd attempted to save me and he didn't want to waste his doctor's time on a dying infidel." Sam heard Jules suck in a shocked breath before the room exploded with angry curses and exclamations. Sam just put his other hand over their clasped hands, reassurance in the pressure of his hands on hers.

He waited for the commotion to end before continuing his story. "I played possum while they dragged me to a cell and threw me inside. Malik's man Khalid told the men inside that my fate was in their hands, though I would probably not survive anyway. I waited until we were alone before letting the prisoners know I was conscious." He looked up, meeting Mark Smith's eyes. "And that's when I met Colonel Mark Smith, US Marines, Major John Sheppard, US Air Force, Lieutenant Aaron Franks, US Army, Corporal Mike Francis, US Marines, Chief Petty Officer Pat James, US Navy SEALs, and Private Rob Parker, US Army."

Most of the group had realized that the six officers were a part of how Sam had gotten away from Ali and the Taliban. But they hadn't realized that they were actually POWs at the time. Now the honor they'd shown Sam made more sense. Somehow Sam was a part of how they'd all escaped from their captors.

Sam continued to make eye-contact with Mark Smith as he continued. "They were all shocked when I said I was retired after Colonel Smith asked for my name and rank. I explained that Ali Adar tried to exchange me for a reinstatement. That's when Major Sheppard said that Ali had been fixated on the Ghost for the past five years. It didn't take them long to put it together. I confirmed that I'd been the Ghost and that Ali was now dead. Colonel Smith asked why I was there. I explained that Malik was going to give me back – but not while I was still alive."

Sam sucked in a breath, struggling to stay composed. This was the hardest part for him – to admit how close he'd been to losing himself. "I asked if anyone could get the door opened, and Chief Petty Officer James volunteered that he could – but it wouldn't do any good without a way out of the tunnels. I told them that I knew a way out of the tunnels, but I needed a promise: I needed to go home – I couldn't… I didn't want…" Sam brought his knees back up towards his chest, using his free hand to shield his face again. He was losing his hard-won composure, his strength slipping away. For a moment the only sound was the harsh sound of his sobbing breaths as he fought to regain his self-control.

When his breathing quieted a little, he was able to whisper, harshly, "I didn't want to die there." Silence met that stark statement before he went on, "That's when Colonel Smith…" Sam let his voice trail off as Mark Smith took several steps towards the wounded officer.

"That's when I gave you my word that I'd do everything in my power to get you home," Mark said softly.

Sam finally looked up and met his eyes, "And you did." Silence fell again while the two men exchanged an intense look. They broke the look when Sam continued on, his voice still hoarse but not quite the whisper that it'd been before, "We left the cell about two hours after Corporal Francis treated my injuries," all of the American soldiers grinning as they noticed that Sam had conveniently omitted the fact that part of the reason they'd delayed for that long was because he'd been unconscious. Sam noticed the grins but chose to ignore them. "We made two stops on our way out of the tunnels: the first to acquire more weapons in case we encountered any resistance, and the second…" Sam paused for a moment, looking at his father with a guilty expression on his face.

The general looked at his son with concern, but didn't allow any of that in his voice as he asked, "What is it, Sam?"

"I told them, sir," Sam admitted, softly, "I told them it was classified, but that I'd been there before."

Again shocked silence filled the room. It was broken by Robby Braddock. "Bill," he demanded, "Bill, what exactly is Sam talking about? He's been where before?"

Bill Braddock sighed, but he didn't look away from Sam. He knew Sam was waiting for the disappointment to appear on his face. But he'd be waiting for a long time. Bill knew that it was normal for Sam to admit to the other soldiers that he'd been in the tunnels before – it explained a lot and gave them a reason to trust his information. So he wasn't disappointed. After smiling encouragingly at his son, Bill turned his attention to his brother. "Sam told the Americans that he's been in the tunnels before. Right before the incident with Corporal Jamison and Ali Adar, Sam was sent on a classified mission into the tunnels under the mountains of Afghanistan. He successfully completed that mission, emerging with the knowledge of a fair portion of the tunnels that we've used in subsequent missions by other military personnel." General Braddock looked around the room. "That's all I'm at liberty to say regarding Sam's prior mission. And that information is extremely sensitive. Had Malik realized who Sam was besides the Ghost… he never would have offered to return him. Sam would have been executed."

The shocks just kept coming at the audience listening to their friend's story. If several looks were directed at Sam, wondering if they really knew him, they were reassured by the look of irritation he directed at his father. "Did you really have to put it so dramatically?" he muttered.

Bill Braddock met his son's irritated gaze calmly. "Was anything I said incorrect?" he asked quietly.

Sam huffed out a sigh. "No," he admitted, "but you could have been a little less blunt."

Bill Braddock just rolled his eyes. "Where was the second place you stopped on your way out of the tunnels?" was all he said.

"We stopped at their EOS," Sam said, quietly.

"EOS?" Spike asked, confused.

"Explosive Ordinance Storage," Pat James explained, softly. Instant silence was the result.

"So am I to assume that the disturbance we felt the day you reached our base was not the result of an earthquake?" General Forrester asked.

"That is correct, sir," Sam answered. "Chief Petty Officer James and I conferred about the ordinance that was stored there, and utilized a timed device to destroy it after we'd vacated the tunnel system."

"You blew them up with their own explosives?" this time it was Sean Morrissey who felt the need to exclaim out loud what everyone was thinking.

Sam shrugged, wincing as the shrug pulled painfully at his injuries. "We don't know how much of the tunnel system was destroyed or how many casualties were incurred. It's entirely possible that Malik and his command structure escaped unscathed." He could feel his pain building, knowing his time to report was rapidly coming to an end.

"I bet Malik _**really**_ regrets Ali kidnapping you now," Spike muttered.

"I'm not so sure… Malik was really so surprised… by what Ali did," Sam said, his voice hitching as the pain began breaking through some of his barriers.

"What do you mean, Sam," Bill Braddock asked his son, urgently.

"I don't have… any evidence…" Sam continued haltingly, "but I got… the impression that… Malik was a lot… closer to Ali… than we thought." He wet his lips, forcing himself to push through the pain to continue. "He knew about… what Ali was doing… to the others in the patrols. He knew about… Ali's obsession… with me. I think… Malik sent him… after me… to keep him… out of the way… while the Americans withdrew. I don't think… he ever expected… Ali to succeed. I think he… killed Ali… to break that link." Sam's voice trailed off. He quietly looked at the cup in Jules' hand, gratefully accepting the resulting drink. He leaned his head back, his eyes closing as he fought to push his pain back one more time and finish his story. He was only partially successful.

Looking at Dr. Redfield, Sam knew he needed to hurry before she pulled the plug on his report. "After the explosion… I utilized a technology that Spike and I were working on… to keep units in touch over long distances… with inadequate technology," he said quietly, his voice slightly steadier, but still indicating his intense pain. "It told me that Spike, Raf, Jules, and Wordy… were still in Toronto. It also told me that Ed, and Sarge… were there in Afghanistan." Sam closed his eyes again, forcing back his emotions before they escaped his control. Opening his eyes, but not meeting anyone's gaze, he continued, "I knew that Ed and Sarge… wouldn't be in country… unless my father, the General was with them. So I finally knew… that he and Corporal Jamison… either sustained only minor injuries… or were completely uninjured." Sam could feel the sympathy and understanding in the gazes that were directed at him, though he still refused to raise his eyes to meet any of them.

He just focused on completing his story, "So I gave the cell phone… with the map and coordinates… to Major Sheppard… I explained the dots… and then I passed out for several hours… The American soldiers took turns… carrying me… towards the coordinates… I came to… when we were close… gave Colonel Smith… the message for my dad… and asked Lieutenant Franks… to ask General Forrester… to accompany my father… to the plane… Major Sheppard and Chief Petty Officer James… prepared the plane for takeoff… Private Parker and Corporal Francis… accompanied me to the plane." Sam finally looked up at his audience as he finished with, "You know the rest."

They could all see him trembling with pain and weakness, so no one was surprised when Dr. Redfield took charge and ended the interview. A reverent silence lasted while the nurse and physician wheeled Sam out of the room. Everyone there knew that there would be repercussions from the story Sam had told. Their first priority at this time, though, was getting Sam taken care of. They could focus better on their own duties stemming from Sam's revelations, knowing that he was being cared for and recovering unhindered.

* * *

So, just one chapter left...


	18. Chapter 18

FF_992224_ 7/26/2014

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.

Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.

A/N: It's finally here - the end of The End...

A/N2: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and gave me their thoughts. I'm glad you made the journey with me, and I appreciate all your comments. I don't at this point intend to do any more stories in this series. I'll probably get back to my post episode series...

* * *

_They could all see him trembling with pain and weakness, so no one was surprised when Dr. Redfield took charge and ended the interview. A reverent silence lasted while the nurse and physician wheeled Sam out of the room. Everyone there knew that there would be repercussions from the story Sam had told. Their first priority at this time, though, was getting Sam taken care of. They could focus better on their own duties stemming from Sam's revelations, knowing that he was being cared for and recovering unhindered._

Two weeks later, the same group and more were gathering again at the Wordsworths. The American POWs had been give emergency leave to be examined and assessed. They had taken the opportunity to visit their families for a portion of the leave, but had all gathered back in Toronto for this occasion before heading back to their various units in Afghanistan.

It had quietly been announced by the American government that the amount of troops remaining in Afghanistan would be doubled, without any real explanation. Both American and Canadian sources had confirmed that although the Taliban had taken heavy losses in the explosion, Malik and his immediate subordinates were not included. Both the Americans and Canadians were committed to keeping an eye on the Taliban leader, though all the intel they'd been able to gather confirmed that he didn't seem to present an imminent threat against Sam. The explosion had been reported as the result of some kind of accident in the storage of the explosives. Sam's recovery from the Taliban was quietly reported in a small story in the interior pages of the newspaper, with few details and national security invoked to cover a variety of questions.

Sam smiled quietly as he looked over the crowd gathered in the Wordsworth's back yard. Pat James was talking tech with Frank Mueller and Spike. Mark Smith was helping Wordy and the Sarge with the barbecuing duties. Rob Parker and John Sheppard were talking hockey with Raf Rousseau, Justin Carlson, and Pete Mills. Aaron Franks was talking guns and music with Ed Lane and Bryan Jamison. The women were ignoring all the men and talking babies again.

He glared only partially playfully at Mike Francis when he cleared his throat and nudged him with an icy water bottle. Sam had been settled on a lounger when he'd arrived, because the doctors were still restricting his activities, and ordered to relax by his friends.

Matt Jamison nudged him from the other side. "Come on, drink up," he suggested playfully. "He's only going to irritate you until you do."

Sam rolled his eyes, but accepted the water. Taking a quick drink he continued the conversation he'd been having with his old friend about what he'd been doing since the incident in Afghanistan. It apparently had consisted of visiting a lot of obscure bases and staying in the outlands of Canada to keep out of sight. They talked for another ten minutes, Mike Francis listening and inserting a few humorous comments when a small body climbed onto Sam's lounger and into his lap.

"Hey, Adele," Sam smiled brightly at the young girl.

"You K, Uncle Sammy?" she asked, concern shadowing her face.

"I'm ok," Sam reassured her. He'd had to continuously reassure the three young Carlsons ever since they realized he'd been hurt again.

Adele peered at him uncertainly before looking over at Mike Francis. "Uncle Sammy K?" she asked, her lips pursing in concern as she looked for a more unbiased opinion.

"Uncle Sammy's ok," Mike confirmed. "He just needs to take it easy while he heals."

Sam sat still while Adele gently patted his cheek before kissing it and murmuring, "Kiss a boo boo," to herself and then asking him, "Better?"

"All better," Sam replied, swallowing the lump of emotion in his throat. He was both humbled and incredibly touched at how concerned and gentle the three kids were treating their honorary uncle.

Not to be outdone, both Madison and Matt appeared at his side. They knew better than to climb on him, though. They'd been cautioned by both their mother and father to be careful of their uncle's injuries.

"Tell us a story, Uncle Sammy," Madison ordered more than asked.

"Yeah, a Uncle Matt story," Matt enthused. He gave a side-long look at Matt Jamison. The kids weren't really sure how to treat him. They'd been told that he was their Uncle Sammy's friend who hadn't really died in the war, but they still weren't sure about him.

"How about if I tell you an Uncle Sammy story," Matt suggested, his eyes gleaming with good-humor as he met Sam's gaze. He grinned as Sam rolled his eyes, launching into an obviously untrue story about how Sam had saved the entire Canadian military.

Sam looked across the back yard and met Jules' eyes. She returned his smile, grateful that the sadness that had been ever-present in Sam's expression had faded and smile lines were taking its place. Sam winked and turned his attention back to the enraptured kids and smirking best friend who were conspiring to make his life ever brighter.

The End….


End file.
